Sonnet. "Have you not heard that in some deep-seal'd graves"

Have you not heard that in some deep-seal'd graves,
  The Dead retain in beauty undisturb'd
  The very countenance they living wore?
  But if forbidden yearning vainly craves
  To look upon the hidden face once more,
  Lo! the sweet sleeping aspect is perturb'd,
  The piercing light and the keen breath of life
  Smite like a blow the features, and before
  The hungry eyes of longing, Love, at strife
  With Fate, efface the vision it desires,
  And dust and ashes fill the friendly gloom
  That might have kept immortal in its bloom,
  What now again—and now for aye expires.
  Leave we our buried pleasures in their tomb.