Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
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TO THE DEPARTED: AN ANSWER. |
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 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
TO THE DEPARTED: AN ANSWER.
How should I write that which I scarce can think?Words which, if I could utter them, would break
Asunder, and no sense or meaning make;
Like types unset, mere letters without link,
Not words of grace; to hear which was to drink
In bliss, and all things bless for their dear sake!
Sweet jangled chimes, which music no more wake,
But make with thought thereof the sad heart sink!
Gone, gone! a Name, in perishable stone,
And in a few sad yearning hearts, sums thee,
Whose sum of love eked all from its full own.
O dread Abyss! o'er whose dark brink I see
The immeasurable void of the Unknown,
That void where thou art not: All-void to me!
| Stones from The Quarry | |