LO! in its still, soft-shrouded place,
The pathos of a death-pale face!
I view the marks of mortal care
Time's hopeless sorrows branded there.
Waning beneath the noiseless glide
Of Lethe's dim, ethereal tide,
As furrows on some twilight lea
Fade in calm wave-sweeps of the sea!
Across that bare, unbended brow
The chrism of peace has fallen now,
And, lightening life's austere eclipse,
A star-soft smile hath touched the lips:
Though his sealed sight the death-mists mar,
He hath a strange look, fixed afar:--
As if wan folds of curtained eyes
Trembled almost in act to rise,
And show where each cold-lidded sheath
Now veils the wide, weird orbs beneath,
The mirrored glow, the blest surprise
Of some first glimpse of Paradise!
