Beauty
And shall not Beauty reign beyond the grave?
There Life is, Life eternal, there as here:
For none may die, tho' he desire the dear
And dark repose of Death's abysmal wave;
Thro' Life's unending round for sons still,
Even as we moved, so must we move and change
Thro' all the marvels of her mystic range:
Sea, rose or tempest, soul or star or hill.
But only here, perchance, we know the grace
Of Beauty and the magic of her dream.
And here I love to watch the things that seem;
The dawn that filters thro' the veils of space;
The noon that spreads a glare implacable
O'er all the plain, and drives the shepherd home;
The peace of forests, and the greeny dome
Of ancient oaks above a holy well.
I hold my breath until the blackbird stops;
I mark enchanted, past our cottage eaves,
The roses of the sunset shed their leaves
In shining pink upon the mountain tops.
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