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I have not looked upon you nigh,
Since that dear soul hath fallen asleep. Great Nature is more wise than I :
I will not tell you not to weep.
And though my own eyes fill with dew,
Drawn from the spirit through the brain, I will not even preach to you,
“Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."
Let Grief be her own mistress still.
She loveth her own anguish deep More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done - to weep or not to weep.
I will not say, “God's ordinance
Of death is blown in every wind”; For that is not a common chance
That takes away a noble mind.
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
Vain solace! Memory, standing near,
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat Her voice seemed distant, and a tear
Dropt on the letters as I wrote.
I wrote I know not what. In truth,
How should I soothe you anyway, Who miss the brother of your youth?
Yet something I did wish to say.
For he too was a friend to me:
Both are my friends, and my true breast Bleedeth for both; yet it may be
That only silence suiteth best.
Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease, Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace :
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
And the great ages onward roll.
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet;
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
Me who Died at Azim.
He who died at Azim sends
Faithful friends! it lies, I know,
I am not the thing you kiss :
Sweet friends! what the women lave,
Loving friends! be wise, and dry
'Tis an empty sea-shell,- one
Be ye certain all seems love, Viewed from Allah's throne above; Be ye stout of heart, and come Bravely onward to your home!
La-il Allah! Allah la!
He who died at Azim gave
The Secret of Beath.
“She is dead," they said to him.
“Come away: Kiss her and leave her, thy love is clay.”
They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair ;
With a tender touch they closed up well
And over her bosom they crossed her hands,“Come away,” they said, “God understands."
But he who loved her too well to dread
He lit his lamp, and took the key,
Then he said, “ Cold lips and breast without breath,
“See now, I listen with soul, not ear: What was the secret of dying, dear ?
“O perfect dead! O dead most dear! I hold the breath of my soul to hear.
“There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, To make you so placid from head to feet !
“I would tell you, darling, if I were dead,
“You should not ask vainly with streaming eyes, Which of all death's was the chief surprise ?”
Who will believe what he heard her say,
“The utmost wonder is this : I hear,
“And am your angel, who was your bride,
Night and Death.
MYSTERIOUS night! when our first parent knew
Thee from report divine, and heard thy name,
Did he not tremble for this lovely frame,
Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame,
Hesperus with the host of heaven came,
Within thy beams, O sun! or who could find,
That to such countless orbs thou madest us blind!
Oh may I join the choir invisible
This is life to come,