Hush! She is dead! Tread gently as the light
Foots dim the weary room. Thou shalt behold.
Look:--In d**h's ermine pomp of awful white,
Pale pa**ion of pulseless slumber virgin cold:
Bold, beautiful youth proud as heroic Might--
d**h! and how d**h hath made it vastly old.
Old earth she is now: energy of birth
Glad wings hath fledged and tried them suddenly;
The eyes that held have freed their narrow mirth;
Their sparks of spirit, which made this to be,
Shine fixed in rarer j**els not of earth,
Far Fairylands beyond some silent sea.
A sod is this whence what were once those eyes
Will grow blue wild-flowers in what happy air;
Some weed with flossy blossoms will surprise,
Haply, what summer with her affluent hair;
Blush roses bask those cheeks; and the wise skies
Will know her dryad to what young oak fair.
The chastity of d**h hath touched her so,
No dreams of life can reach her in such rest;--
No dreams the mind exhausted here below,
Sleep built within the romance of her breast.
How she will sleep! like musick quickening slow
Dark the dead germs, to golden life caressed.
Low musick, thin as winds that lyre the gra**,
Smiting thro' red roots harpings; and the sound
Of elfin revels when the wild dews gla**
Globes of concentric beauty on the ground;
For showery clouds o'er tepid nights that pa**
The prayer in harebells and faint foxgloves crowned.
So, if she's dead, thou know'st she is not dead.
Disturb her not; she lies so lost in sleep:
The too-contracted soul its shell hath fled:
Her presence drifts about us and the deep
Is yet unvoyaged and she smiles o'erhead:--
Weep not nor sigh--thou wouldst not have _her_ weep?
To principles of pa**ion and of pride,
To trophied circumstance and specious law,
Stale saws of life, with scorn now flung aside,
From Mercy's throne and Justice would'st thou draw
Her, Hope in Hope, and Chastity's pale bride,
In holiest love of holy, without flaw?
The anguish of the living merciless,--
Mad, bitter cruelty unto the grave,--
Wrings the dear dead with tenfold heart's distress,
Earth chaining love, bound by the lips that rave.
If thou hast sorrow let thy sorrow bless
That power of d**h, of d**h our selfless slave.
"Unjust?"--He is not! for hast thou not all,
All that thou ever hadst when this dull clay
So heartless, blasted now, flushed spiritual,
A restless va**al of Earth's night and day?
This hath been thine and is; the cosmic call
Hath disenchanted that which might not stay.
_Thou_ unjust!--bar not from its high estate,--
Won with what toil thro' devastating cares:
What bootless battling with the violent Fate;
What mailed endeavor with resistless years;--
That soul:--whole-hearted granted once thy mate,
Heaven only loaned, return it not with tears!