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 | The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton |  |
194
LOVE IS DEAD.
I heard one cry out strongly, “Love is dead!”
And then we went and looked upon his face,
Turned into marble by Death's final grace:
His silent lips, that once so vainly pled,
Smile now, as men smile being newly wed;
Since some strange joy Life's sorrows did efface
When Death's arms clasped him in supreme embrace,
All his long pain of living comforted.
And then we went and looked upon his face,
Turned into marble by Death's final grace:
His silent lips, that once so vainly pled,
Smile now, as men smile being newly wed;
Since some strange joy Life's sorrows did efface
When Death's arms clasped him in supreme embrace,
All his long pain of living comforted.
And you would wake him? Dare you him recall
From Death's enamouring to Life's stern pain;
Make him again the old grief's hopeless thrall;
Bind him once more with the old clanking chain.
And goad him on his weary way again?—
Nay! let him rest with Death, the lord of all.
From Death's enamouring to Life's stern pain;
Make him again the old grief's hopeless thrall;
Bind him once more with the old clanking chain.
And goad him on his weary way again?—
Nay! let him rest with Death, the lord of all.
| The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton | |