The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.
Peace, peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Wilde never claims that Isola, his sister,  died –both in this poem, and in general. The envelope that contained Isola Wilde’s hair was carried everywhere by Oscar from her death in 1867 to his own death in 1900. 
 The envelope was labelled: 
 My Isola’s Hair Obiit Feb XXIII 1867 
 She is not dead but sleepeth. 
 Wilde believed that Isola never died, for she was always in his heart.
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