 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
THE LAST KISS.
I took my lips from hers; against my breastI felt her heart (for lips could make no sign)
Throb faint and low, life's last, last beat; divine,
As close of solemn music, which if ceased
Or sounding still we mark not; so, released,
Death in his arms received her out of mine;
And lovingly, and, as with a most fine
And nice regard, o'er his dark threshold eased
Her gentle passage! Like a breath of air
That stirs the tree-tops, or cloud's passing chill,
So passed she; and a silence deep fell there,
As when God's presence doth a Temple fill.
And that last kiss, as clasp-lock Missal rare,
Locks my heart's tablets, and their cóntents still.
| Stones from The Quarry | |