Christina Georgina Rossetti

One Sea-Side Grave

Unmindful of the roses,
Unmindful of the thorn,
A reaper tired reposes
Among his gathered corn:
So might I, till the morn!
 
Cold as the cold Decembers,
Past as the days that set,
While only one remembers
And all the rest forget, —
But one remembers yet.
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