The light falls on thine head And trembles in thine eyes From which the dreams have fled.
But they keep memories; Love burnt us up like grass: Surely Love never dies!
Yea, it is dawn, alas!
DEATH AND MEMORY
Death hath not slain thee all: when twilight spends Her liquid amber in the latest ebb Withdrawing, and the day in silence ends, Expectant of the stars, when through the web Of woven boughs fall glimmering silver spears, Our dreaming heart will stir, as if a light Caress had touched it, and fill up with tears, Remembering: nor only with the night Fall that sweet sadness, light in a dark place, Memory. Shrouded in her shrine of flesh, The soul sits brooding, veiled of form and face By Time, and in our mortal nature's mesh Trammelled, yet sometimes hears the sound of wings And sees, far off, divine, immortal things.
DEATH AND NATURE
When my poor bones are hearsed in quiet clay, And final sleep hath sealed my wondering eyes, The moon as now will sail through tranquil skies; The soft wind in the meadow-grasses play; And sacred Eve, with half-closed eyelids, dream; And Dawn, with rosy fingers, draw the veils Of silver from her shining face; and gales Sing loudly; and the rain from eaveshoots stream With bubbling music. Seek my soul in these; I am a part of them; and they will keep Perchance the music which I wrought with tears. When the moon shines above the silent trees Your eyes shall see me; and when soft as sleep Come murmurs of the rain, ah, bend your ears!