The glow, the sweetness, in its rose combining,
The soul its nightingales pour forth in song,
Thou, making death deep joy!—but could’st thou die?
No!—thy young love hath immortality!
From earth’s bright faces fades the light of morn,
From earth’s glad voices drops the joyous tone;
But ye, the children of the soul, were born
Deathless, and for undying love alone;
And, O ye beautiful! ’tis well, how well,
In the soul’s world, with you, where change is not, to dwell!