Brother and Master, if our love could free
Thy flameborn spirit from its leaden chain
Thou shouldst rise up from this sad house of pain,
Be young and fair as thou wast wont to be,
And strong with joy as is the boundless sea.
Brother and Master, at thy feet we lay
These roses, red as lips that thou hast sung.
And cypress wreaths above thy head are hung
To mingle with the green and fragrant bay.
We kneel awhile, then turn in tears away.