In a small village there grew
a beauty pure and true,
a flower beyond pristine,
a shy rose not yet seen.
Blessed are those who can hear the screams of flowers picked to soon.
A woman grounded in earthly hue
came to light in Royal Blue.
A lady of depth and substance
towered above pomp and circumstance.
Blessed are those who can cradle a wilted body without pause or fear.
With our heads bent in silent contemplation,
we bid farewell to the conscience of a nation.
To “England’s Rose” we say good-bye,
good-bye to our lovely Princess Di.
Blessed are the wingless angels that walk in the valley among us.
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