Perfect Grief

The wandering, wise, outcast sons
Of Pharaoh, the dark roofless ones,
Taught me this wisdom: if Death come,
And take thy dear one, be thou dumb,
Nor gratify with suppliant breath
The attentive insolence of Death.
Suffer thy dear one to depart
In silence; silent in thy heart,
From this forth, be thy dear one's name.
So I, that would not put to shame
So dear a memory dead, repeat
No more the sweet name once too sweet.
Nor, from that buried name, remove
The haughty silence of my love.