DISENCHANTMENT OF DEATH.
HUSH! She is dead! Tread gently as the light
Foots dim the weary room. Thou shalt behold.
Look:—In death's ermine pomp of awful white,
Pale passion of pulseless slumber virgin cold:
Bold, beautiful youth proud as heroic Might—
Death! and how death hath made it vastly old.
Old earth she is now: energy of birth
Glad wings hath fledged and tried them suddenly;
The eyes that held have freed their narrow mirth;