So, if it be thou come, alas,
For sake of sorrow long and deep,
I—Death, the flowers, and leaves, and grass—
Thy grief-fellows, do mourn and weep:
Or if thou come, with life's whole need
To rest a life-long space indeed,
I too and they do guard thy sleep.
Moreover, sometimes, while all we
Have kept the grave with heaviness,
The weary place hath seemed to be
Not barren of all blessedness:
Spent sunbeams rest them here at noon,
And grieving spirits from the moon
Walk here at night in shining dress.
And there is gazing down on all
Some great and love-like eye of blue,
Wherefrom, at times, there seem to fall
Strange looks that soothe the place quite through;
As though indeed, if all love's sweet
And all life's good should prove a cheat,
They knew some heaven that might be true.
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