Epitaph

 Oh, Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;

Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;

Lie close around her:  Leave no room for mirth

With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.

She hath no questions, she hath no replies,

Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth

Of all that irked her from the hour of birth;

With stillness that is almost paradise.

Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,

Silence, more musical than any song;

Even her very heart has ceased to stir:

Until the morning of eternity

Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;

And when she wakes, she will not think it long.

                                                            --Christina Rosetti


Home

Poetry Menu

E-Mail