See, I listen with soul, not ear;
What is the secret of dying, my dear?
Was it the infinite wonder of all
That you could let life's flower fall?
Or was it a greater marvel to feel
The perfect calm o'er agony steal?
Was the miracle greatest to find how deep
Beyond all dreams sank down that sleep?
Did life roll back its record, my dear,
Showing all past deeds dark and clear?
Oh, did love, sweet mistress of bliss,
Affrighted, vanish to shun death's kiss?
For radiant ones in the world above
Forget those whom on earth they love?
Oh, perfect death! Oh, dead most dear,
I hold the breath of my soul to hear!
I listen as deep as fathomless hell,
As high as heaven, nor will you tell!
There must be pleasure in dying, my sweet,
To make you so placid from head to feet!