14 September 2012
Lay me round in the thistle-down Brushing softly on my skin, Make a bed of scarlet roses So fragrant will my end have been
Line my hair with daisies fair Hide each red and shining mark So that I will be at peace, When sings again the morning lark
Close my eyes with not a sigh, Fold each hand upon my heart Empty, still, a bird suspended And do not cry as we may part
A Dying Request • Opuss № I