Stretched on your grave

When my family thinks that I’m safe in my bed,
From night until morning I am stretched at your head.
Calling out to the air with tears hot and wild,
My grief for the girl that I loved as a child.
–17th century Irish love poem

Cold green apples, alabaster musk, and a scattering of cheerless white blossoms: calla lily, gardenia, tuberose, moonflower, and heart-leaf milkweed.