HOW wonderful is Death,
Death, and his brother Sleep!
One, pale as yonder waning moon
And many there were hurt by that strong boy,
His name, they said, was Pleasure,
And near him stood, glorious beyond measure
Thy beauty hangs around thee like
Splendour around the moon--
Thy voice, as silver bells that strike
A golden-winged Angel stood
Before the Eternal Judgement-seat:
His looks were wild, and Devils' blood
No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.'
Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self,
Till it becomes all Music murmurs of.
We meet not as we parted,
We feel more than all may see;
My bosom is heavy-hearted,
Arise, arise, arise!
There is blood on the earth that denies ye bread;
Be your wounds like eyes
My head is heavy, my limbs are weary,
And it is not life that makes me move.
She left me at the silent time
When the moon had ceas'd to climb
The azure path of Heaven's steep,
And like an albatross asleep,
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,
Towards the end of the sunny month of June,
When the north wind congregates in crowds