Forever thwarted and forever grieved?
Heaven did not need her voice; its courts are full
Of choristers angelic trained for praise.
No note is lacking in the wonderful
According chorus, which, untired, always
Sings, “Holy, holy, holy!” round the throne;
But earth seems dumb to us now it is gone!
God does not grudge us anything of good!
And I will dare to fancy when she died,
And on the sweet lips which so featly wooed