The tormented wail.
Heavy tears of agony
Fall beneath the black veil.
The dead is carried 
By horse and carriage.
A trail of sorrow follows
Behind in silent march.
The dark crow watches 
From a distant perch.
Bitter cold wears 
On the frailty of the old;
Their steps are slow,
And measured.
The hard frozen earth awaits.
As the lowering begins,
Red roses are thrown 
From frail hands
With black gloves.
Freezing winds blow;
With tears and a final stare,
Cold and ashen faces
Slowly disappear.