What fear of death is like the fear beyond it?
J. Montgomery.
Nothing they saw, but a low voice was heard
Threading the ominous silence of that fear,
Gentle and terrorless, as if a bird,
Wakened by some volcano’s glare, should cheer
The murk air with his song; yet every word
In the cathedral’s farthest arch seemed near,
As if it spoke to every one apart,
Like the clear voice of conscience to each heart.