Lyrics
23
And there had flung an ancient dirge
Against the burnished sky,
Like ocean threnodies that surge
And swell and swooning die.
But Love has crucified Death's fears,
The grave has set thee free,
And all the sweetness of slow tears
Is turned to mockery.
O white Lord Christ, Thy love's caress,
Thy prophecy that saith
These dead shall wake from weariness,
Shames all who mourn for death;
And faith in immortality,
Affrighted blind belief
That troubles death's reality,
Has crushed dim fragrant grief.
Nay, I were mad to weep for thee,—
But oh thy silken hair!
And oh the twilight memory,
The darkening despair!
