In My Lady's Praise Being Poems, Old and New: Written to the Honour of Fanny, Lady Arnold and Now Collected for her Memory: By Sir Edwin Arnold |
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“Good Night! not Good-bye”
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 | In My Lady's Praise |  |
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“Good Night! not Good-bye”
(Her last words, March 15, 1889.)
I saw my Lady die;
And He, who ofttimes cruel is, dark Death,
Was so deep-sorrowful to stay her breath,
He came, all clemency:
And He, who ofttimes cruel is, dark Death,
Was so deep-sorrowful to stay her breath,
He came, all clemency:
He would not let her know;
So well he loved the bright soul he must take
That, for our grieving, and her own fair sake,
He hid his shaft and bow:
So well he loved the bright soul he must take
That, for our grieving, and her own fair sake,
He hid his shaft and bow:
Upon her lips he laid
That “kiss of God” which kills, but does not harm;
With tender message, breathing no alarm,
He said “Be unafraid!”
That “kiss of God” which kills, but does not harm;
With tender message, breathing no alarm,
He said “Be unafraid!”
Sorrow grew almost glad,
Pain half-forgiven, parting well-nigh kind,
To mark how placidly my Lady's mind
Consented.—Ready-clad
Pain half-forgiven, parting well-nigh kind,
To mark how placidly my Lady's mind
Consented.—Ready-clad
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In robes of unseen light
Her willing soul spread wing; and, while she passed,
“Darling! good-bye!” we moaned—but She, at last,
Murmured “No—but Good-Night!”
Her willing soul spread wing; and, while she passed,
“Darling! good-bye!” we moaned—but She, at last,
Murmured “No—but Good-Night!”
Good-night! then!—Sweetheart! Wife—
If this world be the dark time, and its morrow
Day-dawn of Paradise, dispelling sorrow,
Lighting our starless Life.
If this world be the dark time, and its morrow
Day-dawn of Paradise, dispelling sorrow,
Lighting our starless Life.
Good-night!—and not Good-bye!
Good-night!—and best “Good-morrow!” if we wake;
Yet, why so quickly tired? Well, we must make
Haste to be done, and die!
Good-night!—and best “Good-morrow!” if we wake;
Yet, why so quickly tired? Well, we must make
Haste to be done, and die!
For dying has grown dear
Now you are dead, who turned all things to grace;
We see Death made pale slumber on your face;
Good-night!—But is Dawn near?—
Now you are dead, who turned all things to grace;
We see Death made pale slumber on your face;
Good-night!—But is Dawn near?—
Flowers rich of scent and hue
We laid upon your sleeping-place. And these,
Flowers of fond verse, which once had gift to please—
Being your own—take, too!
We laid upon your sleeping-place. And these,
Flowers of fond verse, which once had gift to please—
Being your own—take, too!
| In My Lady's Praise | |