Epitaph — Summary

The speaker—likely the buried woman herself, since this is an epitaph—asks the living not to cover her grave with roses. She loved them once, but now they would only bewilder her. The point is blunt: she can no longer see or smell anything. There is no sentimental afterlife here, no spirit lingering to enjoy a favorite flower. Yet the final couplet softens that bluntness. She is not lost or suffering; she is simply “happy where she lies” with dust on her eyes. The word “happy” is surprising—it turns absence into peace. The mood is quiet, unsentimental, and a little wry. It gently scolds our need to decorate death with pretty gestures and instead accepts rest, stillness, and the finality of the body as enough.