VI.
Eyes wet with compassion as slowly they fell—
Eyes potent to soften grief's tremulous swell,
As, sweetly and tenderly, “Weep not,” he said,
And turned to the passionless face of the dead.
VII.
White, white gleamed his forehead, loose rippled the hair,
Bronze-tinted, o'er temples transparently fair;
And a glory stole up from the earth to the skies,
As he called to the voiceless one, “Young man, arise!”