Why should we weep for thee,

        Since thou hast gone unsullied back to heaven,

        No stain upon thy spirit's purity,

                        No sin to be forgiven?



        In life's freshness, and its fulness,---

           In thy womanhood's young bloom,

        While thy brow was all unclouded

           With a darkening ray of gloom,---

        The Angel Death hath said to thee,


Doom'd as I am in solitude to waste

The present moments, and regret the past;

Depriv'd of every joy I valued most,

My friend torn from me, and my mistress lost;

Call not this gloom I wear, this anxious mien,

The dull...


Cromwell is dead, and risen; and dead again,

And risen the third time after he was slain

No wonder! For he’s messenger of Hell:

And now he buffets us, now posts to tell

What’s past; and for one more game new counsel takes


There shall be couches whence faint odours rise,
Divans like sepulchres, deep and profound;

Strange flowers that bloomed...


Death! thou real friend of innocence,

Tho' dreadful unto shivering sense,

I feel my nature tottering o'er

Thy gloomy waves, which loudly roar:

Immense the scene, yet dark the view,

Nor Reason darts her...


Robbed by Death — but that was easy —

To the failing Eye

I could hold the latest Glowing —

Robbed by Liberty

For Her Jugular Defences —

This, too, I endured —

Hint of Glory — it afforded —


Said Death to Passion

"Give of thine an Acre unto me."

Said Passion, through contracting Breaths

"A Thousand Times Thee Nay."

Bore Death from Passion

All His East

He — sovereign as the Sun



     The clearest eyes in all the world they read

       With sense more keen and spirit of sight more true

       Than burns and thrills in sunrise, when the dew

     Flames, and absorbs the glory round it...


So give me back to Death —

The Death I never feared

Except that it deprived of thee —

And now, by Life deprived,

In my own Grave I breathe

And estimate its size —

Its size is all that Hell can guess —...