But Thee!
Then, hiding even in me,
As hid was Simon’s coin within the fish,
Thou sigh’st, with joy, “Be dumb,
Or speak but of forgotten things to far-off times to come.”
And of the second, this—
*****
O Death, too tardy with thy hope intense
Of kisses close beyond conceit of sense;
O Life, too liberal, while to take her hand