Behold this square of cambric white,
so chastely wrought with lace,
now stained by dawns of pallid light
that bloom upon her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A fragile relic, softly pressed
against a faltering breath,
it bears upon its folded breast
the mute red seal of death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A finer cloth was never made
for lovers\u2019 whispered vows,
for gentle tears the meek betrayed,
or maiden\u2019s trembling brows;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yet now, consigned to darker arts,
it serves a sterner call\u2014
to cradle what her weary heart
lets slip with each soft fall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She lifts it with a grace refined,
no tremor in her hand,
as though the rose it has enshrined
were but some reprimand\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A slight rebuke from winter\u2019s reign,
a sigh too cold to keep;
and not the herald of her pain,
nor promise of her sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her cheek is pale as moonlit snow,
her gaze serenely still;
she meets the world\u2019s encroaching woe
with uncomplaining will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And in that woven, blushing hue\u2014 Fear bows to her, not she to fear; Thus stands she, in her slender might, Behold this square of cambric white,so chastely wrought with lace,now…<\/p>\n
so faint, yet so severe\u2014
is writ the truth she long outgrew:
that beauty wanes, but fear<\/em>\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
for though her breath grows thin,
the hand that holds the cloth is clear
in all its quiet din.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a lily on the lea,
who bleeds, yet will not yield her right
to noble constancy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"