| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
On the Death of Coleridge | | By Washington Allston (1779–1843) |
| | | AND thou art gone, most loved, most honoured friend! | |
| No, never more thy gentle voice shall blend | |
| With air of Earth its pure ideal tones, | |
| Binding in one, as with harmonious zones, | |
| The heart and intellect. And I no more | 5 |
| Shall with thee gaze on that unfathomed deep, | |
| The Human Soul,—as when, pushed off the shore, | |
| Thy mystic bark would through the darkness sweep, | |
| Itself the while so bright! For oft we seemed | |
| As on some starless sea,—all dark above, | 10 |
| All dark below,—yet, onward as we drove, | |
| To plough up light that ever round us streamed. | |
| But he who mourns is not as one bereft | |
| Of all he loved: thy living Truths are left. | | | | |
|
|
