 | The Outcast, and other poems |  |
169
WEEP NOT FOR HIM.
Weep not for him who hath laid his head,
On a pillow of earth, in the cypress shade—
For the sweetest dews that the night winds shed,
Descend on that couch for the sleeper made.
On a pillow of earth, in the cypress shade—
For the sweetest dews that the night winds shed,
Descend on that couch for the sleeper made.
Weep not for him, though the wintry sleet
Throw its glittering folds o'er his manly breast—
That spotless robe is a covering meet,
For the shrouded soul in its home of rest.
Throw its glittering folds o'er his manly breast—
That spotless robe is a covering meet,
For the shrouded soul in its home of rest.
Weep not for him, though his heart is still,
And the soul-lit eye like a lamp grown dim—
Though the noble pulse, as an icy rill,
By the frost is chained—O weep not for him!
And the soul-lit eye like a lamp grown dim—
Though the noble pulse, as an icy rill,
By the frost is chained—O weep not for him!
The diamond gathers its purest ray,
In the hidden grot, where no sun is known—
And the sweetest voices of music play,
In the trembling ear of silence alone
In the hidden grot, where no sun is known—
And the sweetest voices of music play,
In the trembling ear of silence alone
170
And there in the frown of that starless tomb,
A lovelier light breaks in on the eye—
And wind-harps sweep through the sullen gloom,
To call the sleeper away to the sky!
A lovelier light breaks in on the eye—
And wind-harps sweep through the sullen gloom,
To call the sleeper away to the sky!
| The Outcast, and other poems | |