 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE SLEEP OF DEATH.
Death had been merciful to her, she layEven from the setting sun till blush of day,
As in a tranquil slumber with sealed lip,
That let cold moonbeams on the cold face slip
Delicately, and midnight's mourning breath
Murmured no music of the sleeper's death.
Fair stars went in and fairer stars came out,
And a low wind went whispering about.
The light leaves rustled with a ghostly noise,
All things seemed filled with intimated joys,
More than expressed; and still the hours went on,
Still breezes brushed her face, and planets shone
Serenely in their holy spheres on high,
The far faint blue abysses of the sky.
A soft wind rose, and as a mourner stands,
Played with the flowing tracery of her hands,
Breathed in her ear and rippled round her hair,
Yet ruffled not the lightest ringlet there.
One moonbeam stole through heavy-fruited boughs,
And open lattice, to the sleeper's brows,
But nowhere rested; with a wandering grace,
It glorified the glory of her face,
Made whiter still her forehead's unstained snow,
Then with a sudden sigh made haste to go.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |