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Arthur Symons - The Passing
Work rating: Medium

Weep not at all: crocuses in the grass, 
Like little flames of gold, flicker and pass; 
The buds that after winter soothe the trees 
Have longer days, but pass even as these; 
And the rejoicing and all-quickening spring 
Is but, in sleep, a brief awakening. 
How little earth is wide and deep enough 
To cover this that, while it lived, did love 
Her lover no whit less than Mary did 
Her son; in what a shallow pit is hid 
Beauty that, while it lived, did overpower 
Strong men, and now is fallen like a flower. 
This, which they leave alone under the sky, 
Naked, for rains to wash and suns to dry, 
Veiled her soft flesh against the rain and sun: 
So fadeth every flower and every one.
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