Beside the Dead
With hands that folded are from every task,
It must be sweet, O thou my dead, to lie
Sealed with the seal of the great mystery,--
The lips that nothing answer, nothing ask;
The life-long struggle ended; ended quite
The weariness of patience and of pain;
And the eyes closed to open not again
On desolate dawn or dreariness of night.
It must be sweet to slumber and forget;
To have the poor tired heart so still at last:
Done with all yearning, done with all regret;
Doubt, fear, hope, sorrow, all for ever past:
Past all the hours, or slow of wing or fleet--
It must be sweet, it must be very sweet!
With hands that folded are from every task,
It must be sweet, O thou my dead, to lie
Sealed with the seal of the great mystery,--
The lips that nothing answer, nothing ask;
The life-long struggle ended; ended quite
The weariness of patience and of pain;
And the eyes closed to open not again
On desolate dawn or dreariness of night.
It must be sweet to slumber and forget;
To have the poor tired heart so still at last:
Done with all yearning, done with all regret;
Doubt, fear, hope, sorrow, all for ever past:
Past all the hours, or slow of wing or fleet--
It must be sweet, it must be very sweet!