Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/222

Then should the tempest of our grief grow calm;
 Then moaning gales should vex our souls no more;
And the clear swelling of our thankful psalm
 Should drown the beat of surges on the shore.

But the deep sea will not give up its dead.
 O, ye who know where your belovèd sleep,
Bid heart's-ease bloom on each love-guarded bed,
 And bless your God for graves whereon to weep!