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NOW, sitting by her side, worn out with weeping, | |
Behold, I fell to sleep, and had a vision, | |
Wherein I heard a wondrous Voice intoning: | |
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Crying aloud, The Master on His throne | |
Openeth now the seventh seal of wonder, | 5 |
And beckoneth back the angel men name Death. | |
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And at His feet the mighty Angel kneeleth, | |
Breathing not; and the Lord doth look upon him, | |
Saying, Thy wanderings on earth are ended. | |
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And lo! the mighty Shadow sitteth idle | 10 |
Even at the silver gates of heaven, | |
Drowsily looking in on quiet waters, | |
And puts his silence among men no longer. | |
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The world was very quiet. Men in traffic | |
Cast looks over their shoulders; pallid seamen | 15 |
Shiverd to walk upon the decks alone; | |
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And women barrd their doors with bars of iron, | |
In the silence of the night; and at the sunrise | |
Trembled behind the husbandmen afield. | |
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I could not see a kirkyard near or far; | 20 |
I thirsted for a green grave, and my vision | |
Was weary for the white gleam of a tombstone. | |
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But harkening dumbly, ever and anon | |
I heard a cry out of a human dwelling, | |
And felt the cold wind of a lost ones going. | 25 |
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One struck a brother fiercely, and he fell, | |
And faded in a darkness; and that other | |
Tore his hair, and was afraid, and could not perish. | |
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One struck his aged mother on the mouth, | |
And she vanishd with a gray grief from his hearthstone. | 30 |
One melted from her bairn, and on the ground | |
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With sweet unconscious eyes the bairn lay smiling. | |
And many made a weeping among mountains, | |
And hid themselves in caverns, and were drunken. | |
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I heard a voice from out the beauteous earth, | 35 |
Whose side rolld up from winter into summer, | |
Crying, I am grievous for my children. | |
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I heard a voice from out the hoary ocean, | |
Crying, Burial in the breast of me were better, | |
Yea, burial in the salt flags and green crystals. | 40 |
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I heard a voice from out the hollow ether, | |
Saying, The thing ye cursd hath been abolishd | |
Corruption and decay, and dissolution! | |
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And the world shriekd, and the summertime was bitter, | |
And men and women feard the air behind them; | 45 |
And for lack of its green graves the world was hateful. | |
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Now at the bottom of a snowy mountain | |
I came upon a woman thin with sorrow, | |
Whose voice was like the crying of a seagull: | |
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Saying, O Angel of the Lord, come hither, | 50 |
And bring me him I seek for on thy bosom, | |
That I may close his eyelids and embrace him. | |
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I curse thee that I cannot look upon him! | |
I curse thee that I know not he is sleeping! | |
Yet know that he has vanishd upon God! | 55 |
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I laid my little girl upon a wood bier, | |
And very sweet she seemd, and near unto me; | |
And slipping flowers into her shroud was comfort. | |
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I put my silver mother in the darkness, | |
And kissd her, and was solaced by her kisses, | 60 |
And set a stone, to mark the place, above her. | |
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And green, green were their sleeping places, | |
So green that it was pleasant to remember | |
That I and my tall man would sleep beside them. | |
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The closing of dead eyelids is not dreadful, | 65 |
For comfort comes upon us when we close them, | |
And tears fall, and our sorrow grows familiar; | |
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And we can sit above them where they slumber, | |
And spin a dreamy pain into a sweetness, | |
And know indeed that we are very near them. | 70 |
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But to reach out empty arms is surely dreadful, | |
And to feel the hollow empty world is awful, | |
And bitter grows the silence and the distance. | |
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There is no space for grieving or for weeping; | |
No touch, no cold, no agony to strive with, | 75 |
And nothing but a horror and a blankness! | |
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Now behold I saw a woman in a mud hut | |
Raking the white spent embers with her fingers, | |
And fouling her bright hair with the white ashes. | |
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Her mouth was very bitter with the ashes; | 80 |
Her eyes with dust were blinded; and her sorrow | |
Sobbd in the throat of her like gurgling water. | |
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And all around the voiceless hills were hoary, | |
But red lights scorchd their edges; and above her | |
There was a soundless trouble of the vapors. | 85 |
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Whither, and O whither, said the woman, | |
O Spirit of the Lord, hast thou conveyd them, | |
My little ones, my little son and daughter? | |
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For, lo! we wanderd forth at early morning, | |
And winds were blowing round us, and their mouths | 90 |
Blew rosebuds to the rosebuds, and their eyes | |
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Lookd violets at the violets, and their hair | |
Made sunshine in the sunshine, and their passing | |
Left a pleasure in the dewy leaves behind them; | |
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And suddenly my little son lookd upward | 95 |
And his eyes were dried like dewdrops; and his going | |
Was like a blow of fire upon my face; | |
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And my little son was gone. My little daughter | |
Lookd round me for him, clinging to my vesture; | |
But the Lord had drawn him from me, and I knew it | 100 |
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By the sign He gives the stricken, that the lost one | |
Lingers nowhere on the earth, on the hill or valley, | |
Neither underneath the grasses nor the tree roots. | |
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And my shriek was like the splitting of an ice-reef, | |
And I sank among my hair, and all my palm | 105 |
Was moist and warm where the little hand had filld it. | |
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Then I fled and sought him wildly, hither and thither | |
Though I knew that he was stricken from me wholly | |
By the token that the Spirit gives the stricken. | |
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I sought him in the sunlight and the starlight, | 110 |
I sought him in great forests, and in waters | |
Where I saw my own pale image looking at me. | |
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And I forgot my little bright-haird daughter, | |
Though her voice was like a wild-birds far behind me, | |
Till the voice ceasd, and the universe was silent. | 115 |
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And stilly, in the starlight, came I backward | |
To the forest where I missd him; and no voices | |
Brake the stillness as I stoopd down in the starlight, | |
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And saw two little shoes filled up with dew, | |
And no mark of little footsteps any farther, | 120 |
And knew my little daughter had gone also. | |
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But beasts died; yea, the cattle in the yoke, | |
The milk-cow in the meadow, and the sheep, | |
And the dog upon the doorstep: and men envied. | |
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And birds died; yea, the eagle at the sun gate, | 125 |
The swan upon the waters, and the farm fowl, | |
And the swallows on the housetops: and men envied. | |
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And reptiles; yea, the toad upon the road-side, | |
The slimy, speckled snake among the grass, | |
The lizard on the ruin: and men envied. | 130 |
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The dog in lonely places cried not over | |
The body of his master; but it missd him, | |
And whind into the air, and died, and rotted. | |
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The travellers horse lay swollen in the pathway, | |
And the blue fly fed upon it; but no traveller | 135 |
Was there; nay, not his footprint on the ground. | |
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The cat mewd in the midnight, and the blind | |
Gave a rustle, and the lamp burnt blue and faint, | |
And the fathers bed was empty in the morning. | |
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The mother fell to sleep beside the cradle, | 140 |
Rocking it, while she slumberd, with her foot, | |
And wakend,and the cradle there was empty. | |
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I saw a two-years child, and he was playing; | |
And he found a dead white bird upon the doorway, | |
And laughd, and ran to show it to his mother. | 145 |
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The mother moand, and clutchd him, and was bitter, | |
And flung the dead white bird across the threshold; | |
And another white bird flitted round and round it, | |
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And utterd a sharp cry, and twitterd and twitterd, | |
And lit beside its dead mate, and grew busy, | 150 |
Strewing it over with green leaves and yellow. | |
So far, so far to seek for were the limits | |
Of affliction; and mens terror grew a homeless | |
Terror, yea, and a fatal sense of blankness. | |
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There was no little token of distraction, | 155 |
There was no visible presence of bereavement, | |
Such as the mourner easeth out his heart on. | |
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There was no comfort in the slow farewell, | |
No gentle shutting of beloved eyes, | |
Nor beautiful broodings over sleeping features. | 160 |
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There were no kisses on familiar faces, | |
No weaving of white grave-clothes, no last pondering | |
Over the still wax cheeks and folded fingers. | |
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There was no putting tokens under pillows, | |
There was no dreadful beauty slowly fading, | 165 |
Fading like moonlight softly into darkness. | |
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There were no churchyard paths to walk on, thinking | |
How near the well-beloved ones are lying. | |
There were no sweet green graves to sit and muse on, | |
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Till grief should grow a summer meditation, | 170 |
The shadow of the passing of an angel, | |
And sleeping should seem easy, and not cruel. | |
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Nothing but wondrous parting and a blankness. | |
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But I woke, and, lo! the burthen was uplifted, | |
And I prayd within the chamber where she slumberd, | 175 |
And my tears flowd fast and free, but were not bitter. | |
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I easd my heart three days by watching near her, | |
And made her pillow sweet with scent and flowers, | |
And could bear at last to put her in the darkness. | |
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And I heard the kirk-bells ringing very slowly, | 180 |
And the priests were in their vestments, and the earth | |
Drippd awful on the hard wood, yet I bore it. | |
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And I cried, O unseen Sender of Corruption, | |
I bless Thee for the wonder of Thy mercy, | |
Which softeneth the mystery and the parting: | 185 |
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I bless thee for the change and for the comfort, | |
The bloomless face, shut eyes, and waxen fingers, | |
For Sleeping, and for Silence, and Corruption. | |
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