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On that grave drop not a tear !

Else, though fathom-deep the place, Through the woollen shroud I wear

I shall feel it on my face.
Rather smile there, blessëd one,
Thinking of me in the sun,
Or forget me--smiling on !

Art thou near me ? nearer ! $0–

Kiss me close upon the eyes,
That the earthly light may go

Sweetly, as it used to rise
When I watched the morning-grey
Strike, betwixt the hills, the way
He was sure to come that day.

So,-no more vain words be said !

The hosannas nearer roll, Mother, smile now on thy Dead,

I am death-strong in my soul. Mystic Dove alit on cross, Guide the poor bird of the snows Through the snow-wind above loss !

Jesus, Victim, comprehending

Love's divine self-abnegation, Cleanse my love in its self-spending,

And absorb the poor libation ! Wind my thread of life up higher. Up, through angels' hands of fire ! I aspire while I expire.




On the door you will not enter,

I have gazed too long : adieu !
Hope withdraws her peradventure;
Death is near me,—and not you.

Come, O lover,

Close and cover
These poor eyes, you called, I ween,
“Sweetest eyes, were ever seen!”

When I heard you sing that burden

In my vernal days and bowers,
Other praises disregarding,
I but harkened that of yours-

Only saying

In heart-playing,
“Blessed eyes mine eyes have been
If the sweetest, his have seen !”

But all changes. At this vesper,

Cold the sun shines down the door.

you stood there, would you whisper
“ Love, I love you,” as before,-

Death pervading

Now, and shading
Eyes you sang of, that yestreen,
As the sweetest ever seen?

Yes. I think, were you beside them,

Near the bed I die upon,
Though their beauty you denied them,

As you stood there, looking down,

You would truly

Call them duly, For the love's sake found therein, “ Sweetest eyes, were ever seen.”

And if you looked down upon them,

And if they looked up to you, All the light which has foregone them Would be gathered back anew :

They would truly

Be as duly Love-transformed to beauty's sheen, “Sweetest eyes, were ever seen."

But, ah me! you only see me,

In your thoughts of loving man, Smiling soft perhaps and dreamy Through the wavings of my fan;

And unweeting

Go repeating, In your reverie serene, “ Sweetest eyes, were ever seen—"

While my spirit leans and reaches

From my body still and pale, .Fain to hear what tender speech is In your love to help my bale.

O my poet,

Come and show it : Come, of latest love, to glean “Sweetest eyes, were ever seen.”

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O my poet, O my prophet,

When you praised their sweetness so, Did you think, in singing of it,

That it might be near to go ?

Had you fancies

From their glances, That the grave would quickly screen “Sweetest eyes, were ever seen ? "

No reply. The fountain's warble

In the courtyard sounds alone.
As the water to the marble
So my heart falls with a moan

From love-sighing

To this dying Death forerunneth Love to win “Sweetest eyes, were ever seen.”

Will you come? When I'm departed

Where all sweetnesses are hid, Where thy voice, my tender-hearted, Will not lift up either lid;

Cry, O lover,

Love is over ! Cry, beneath the cypress green, “Sweetest eyes, were ever seen !”

When the angelus is ringing,

Near the convent will you walk, And recall the choral singing Which brought angels down our talk ?


I viewed Heaven,
Till you smiled—“Is earth unclean,
Sweetest eyes, were ever seen ? "

When beneath the palace-lattice

You ride slow as you have done, And you see a face there, that is

Not the old familiar one,

Will you oftly

Murmur softly, “ Here ye watched me morn and e'en, Sweetest eyes, were ever seen ?”

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When the palace-ladies, sitting

Round your gittern, shall have said,
Poet, sing those verses written
For the lady who is dead,"

Will you tremble

Yet dissemble,Or sing hoarse, with tears between, “ Sweetest eyes, were ever seen ? "

“Sweetest eyes !” how sweet in flowings

The repeated cadence is !
Though you sang a hundred poems,
Still the best one would be this.

I can hear it

'Twixt my spirit And the earth-noise intervene“ Sweetest eyes, were ever seen!”

But the priest waits for the praying,

And the choir are on their knees, And the soul must pass away in Strains more solemn-high than these.


For the weary! Oh, no longer for Catrine “Sweetest eyes, were ever seen!”

Keep my riband, take and keep it

(I have loosed it from my hair), Feeling, while you overweep it, Not alone in your despair,

She left him the riband from her hair.

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