The rose, the crocus, the narcissus sweet,
She lays to rest, undoubting, at her feet
Who from the meadows bright
Was snatched away to rule in the sad light
Of Hades, and to learn
Its lessons stern.
For Nature's faith is deep
That, waking from the dark and dreamless sleep,
Her flowers toward the sun shall wistful yearn,
And in the fragrant breast of Proserpine return.
Ah, lover true of men,
Forgive, forgive us, then,
If choked by tears we falter in our praise,
Remembering that we no more again
Shall hold glad converse with your spirit brave,
Nor from your lips hear words that lift and save,
Through all the lengthening number of our days!
By the great Silence you are set apart
From all the restless travail of the heart
That beats in us
So passionate and strong—
Are passed beyond the evening angelus
And Memnon's morning song.
.........
