A dirge.

Reading that JK Rowling had published a new book under a man's name I decided that I would try to read it...sooner rather than later. It then transpired that under the assumed name less than 500 copies had been sold. I turned to Audible where I can usually find audio books to listen to in bed!
There it was. It had been downloaded several hundred times by the time I got there but that is the beauty of the spoken word.....one recording can go out by the thousands!
I listened to the opening immediately and was struck by the beauty of the poem which starts it all.
It was not one I'd ever hear before but it wasn't by Rowling. It was by Christina Rossetti...a poet I do like a lot. How I could ever have missed it I am not sure  but here it is and I aplogise for returning to the sad theme.....it is a dirge.  But very beautiful.

A Dirge

Why were you born when the snow was falling?

You should have come to the cuckoo’s calling,

Or when grapes are green in the cluster,

Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster

   For their far off flying

   From summer dying.

Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?

You should have died at the apples’ dropping,

When the grasshopper comes to trouble,

And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,

   And all winds go sighing

   For sweet things dying.