And left a placid level, that up swam
To the surface the drowned truth, in dreadful change.
So, through the quiet and submission,—ay,
Spite of some strong words—(for you miss the tone)
The grief was getting to be infinite—
Grief, friends fell back before. Their office shrank
To that old solace of humanity!—
"Being born mortal, bear grief! Why born else?"
And they could only meditate anew.
"They, too, upborne by airy help of song.