The life still there,
Upon her hair—
The death upon her eyes.
“Avaunt! to-night
My heart is light.
No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight
With a pæan of old days!
Let no bell toll!—
Lest her sweet soul,
The life still there,
Upon her hair—
The death upon her eyes.
“Avaunt! to-night
My heart is light.
No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight
With a pæan of old days!
Let no bell toll!—
Lest her sweet soul,