The Rose Was Sick, And Smiling Died; And, Being To Be Sanctified, About The Bed, There Sighing Stood The Sweet And Flowery Sisterhood. Some Hung The Head, While Some Did Bring, To Wash Her, Water From The Spring; Some Laid Her Forth, While Others Wept, But All A Solemn Fast There Kept. The Holy Sisters Some Among, The Sacred Dirge And Trental Sung; But Ah! What Sweets Smelt Everywhere, As Heaven Had Spent All Perfumes There! At Last, When Prayers For The Dead, And Rites, Were All Accomplished, They, Weeping, Spread A Lawny Loom, And Closed Her Up As In A Tomb.