| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XII. Love and Death
Hic Jacet | | By Louise Chandler Moulton (1835–1908) |
| | | SO Love is dead that has been quick so long! | |
| Close, then, his eyes, and bear him to his rest, | |
| With eglantine and myrtle on his breast, | |
| And leave him there, their pleasant scents among; | |
| And chant a sweet and melancholy song | 5 |
| About the charms whereof he was possessed, | |
| And how of all things he was loveliest, | |
| And to compare with aught were him to wrong. | |
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| Leave him beneath the still and solemn stars, | |
| That gather and look down from their far place | 10 |
| With their long calm our brief woes to deride, | |
| Until the Sun the Morning’s gate unbars | |
| And mocks, in turn, our sorrows with his face;— | |
| And yet, had Love been Love, he had not died. | | | | |
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