Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
Reply
By Hartley Coleridge (1796–1849)
 
SHE pass’d away like morning dew,
  Before the sun was high;
So brief her time, she scarcely knew
  The meaning of a sigh.
 
As round the rose its soft perfume,        5
  Sweet love around her floated;
Admired she grew—while mortal doom
  Crept on, unfear’d, unnoted.
 
Love was her guardian Angel here,
  But Love to Death resign’d her;        10
Tho’ Love was kind, why should we fear
  But holy Death is kinder?
 
 
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