I have set a poem by my paternal grandmother, Elsie Lister Ross, to the Welsh tune [The] Ash Grove (Llwyn On[n?]). Her poems are here.

  Why not now?    75

Too few are the garlands we weave for the living,
Too many the wreaths that are laid on the bier;
If someone has flowers or praise to be giving,
'Tis wrong to withhold while the loved one is here.
When once the dear soul from the cold clay doth vanish,
What use the sweet blossoms so lavishly spread?
One kind, loving word that the teardrops will banish,
Is better than loudest applause to the dead.

Feb. 12, 1924                    Elsie Lister Ross

Liland