Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
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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