University of Virginia Library

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121

IN MEMORIAM.

L. C. B.

OB. MDCCCLXIV.

Only now the chrysalis;
Only now the mortal clay,
Cold and breathless, utterly.
What may wake him? Not a kiss
On the purest brow I know,
O! so pallid; not a kiss
On the listless, closed eyes;
They can look beyond the skies
At the white throne. Not a kiss
On the hollow cheek of snow.
What shall wake him? Not a kiss
On the bloodless, sealed lips,
For an angel's finger-tips
Ever-silence there have prest;
And the quiet of his breast
Is a holy sepulcher;

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122

And the sleeping Christ within,
Is his heart immaculate,
Purged of every blight and sin.
Death the ashes did inter
With the odor and the balm,
Nourished in the long increase
Of the Christ-man's perfect calm,
And his soul's eternal peace.
Faith and Hope sit at the gate
Of the sepulcher, and wait
For the dawning judgment day;
At the portal while I weep.
At the portal while I pray,
Kneeling at the silent tomb—
Who will break the awful gloom?
Who shall wake him from his sleep?
Who can roll the stone away?

Slumber on and take thy rest;
Peace forever will abide
With thy memory at my side,
Dove-like; and upon my breast
Falls thy spirit sanctified!

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123

Only here the chrysalis,
Only here the mortal clay,
Cold and breathless utterly.
Naught may wake him; not a kiss;
Not a kiss or prayer for aye
Shall recall him out of bliss!
Only here the chrysalis,
With the spirit flown away!