Ever changing your symbols
Of light or of gloom;
Now the rue on the altar,
The rose on the tomb.
From Love, if the infant
Receiveth his breath,
The love that gave life
Yields a subject to Death.
When Death smites the aged,
Escaping above
Flies the soul re-deliver'd
By Death unto Love.
And therefore in wailing
We enter on life;
And therefore in smiling
Depart from its strife.
Thus Love is best known
By the tears it has shed;
And Death's surest sign
Is the smile of the dead.
The purer the spirit,
The clearer its view,
The more it confoundeth
The shapes of the two;
For, if thou lov'st truly,
Thou canst not dissever
The grave from the altar,
The Now from the Ever;
And if, nobly hoping,
Thou gazest above,
In Death thou beholdest
The aspect of Love.