She sleeps in pale recumbency, like stone
No word her parted lips expel, as death
With feathered hand makes its fair secrets known;
The dream of life, the hushed memory of breath,
A lesser vision leaves; and nothing spares.
The province of angels our fair queen shares,
And in the company of former kings -
Though this no comfort to our sadness brings -
She, doubtless, must earn our unabashed love.
She, a bright star, though whom we scarcely sought,
Did guide us nonetheless, while our bad lot,
As ever, is to rail at Heav’n above
And tarnish still this ineffable ground,
What we have called earth, but treat as naught
More than an island by savages caught.
No word her parted lips expel, as death
With feathered hand makes its fair secrets known;
The dream of life, the hushed memory of breath,
A lesser vision leaves; and nothing spares.
The province of angels our fair queen shares,
And in the company of former kings -
Though this no comfort to our sadness brings -
She, doubtless, must earn our unabashed love.
She, a bright star, though whom we scarcely sought,
Did guide us nonetheless, while our bad lot,
As ever, is to rail at Heav’n above
And tarnish still this ineffable ground,
What we have called earth, but treat as naught
More than an island by savages caught.
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