And one long spray of the white thornless rose,
Stooped low, and swayed above him; a soft sound
Of far, sweet, breezy whisperings wooed his ear,
Till gentler thoughts stole to him, and he wept.
Ere long his ear heard not: all things around,
The present and the past—the painful past—
Became as though they were not. Joseph lay,
With eyes closed calmly, and a strange full peace
Breathed to his spirit's depths; for there was one,
Fairer and nobler than the sons of earth,