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A Dirge.
105
Which it dreamed of ever;
Thou wast guilty of a rhyme
Learned in a benigner clime,
And of that more grievous crime,—
An ideal too sublime
For the low-hung sky of Time.
Thou wast guilty of a rhyme
Learned in a benigner clime,
And of that more grievous crime,—
An ideal too sublime
For the low-hung sky of Time.
The calm spot where thy body lies
Gladdens thy soul in Paradise,
It is so still and holy;
Thy body sleeps serenely there,
And well for it thy soul may care,
It was so beautiful and rare,
Lily-white so wholly:
From so pure and sweet a frame
Thy spirit parted as it came,
Gentle as a maiden;
Now it hath its full of rest,
Sods are lighter on its breast
Than the great prophetic guest
Wherewith it was laden.
Gladdens thy soul in Paradise,
It is so still and holy;
Thy body sleeps serenely there,
And well for it thy soul may care,
It was so beautiful and rare,
Lily-white so wholly:
From so pure and sweet a frame
Thy spirit parted as it came,
Gentle as a maiden;
Now it hath its full of rest,
Sods are lighter on its breast
Than the great prophetic guest
Wherewith it was laden.