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About her brows, and her dear, pale face
And jasmine, and roses,
and rosemary; For they said, "As a lady should lie, lies she!"
And they held their breath as they left the room,
He lit his lamp, and took the key,
“ Dumb to the ear and still to the sense. But to heart and to soul distinct, - intense? “See, now,- I listen with soul, not earWhat was the secret of dying, Dear? “Was it the infinite wonder of all, That you ever could let life's flower fall? “Or was it a greater marvel to feel The perfect calm o'er the agony steal? “Was the miracle greatest to find how deep, Beyond all dreams, sank downward that sleep? “ Did life roll backward its record, Dear, And show, as they say it does, past things clear?
“And was it the innermost heart of the bliss To find out so what a wisdom love is?
Oh, perfect Dead! oh, Dead most dear, I hold the breath of my soul to hear;
“I listen as deep as to horrible
“There must be pleasures in dying, Sweet, To make you so placid from head to feet! “I would tell you, Darling, if I were dead, And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed. "I would say though the angel of death had laid His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid.
" You should not ask, vainly, with streaming eyes, Which in Death's touch was the chiefest surprise;
“The very strangest and suddenest thing
Who will believe that he heard her say,
“I can speak, now you listen with soul alone; If your soul could see, it would all be shown.
“What a strange delicious amazement is Death, To be without body and breathe without breath. “I should laugh for joy if you did not cry; Oh, listen! Love lasts! — Love never will die. “I am only your Angel who was your Bride; And I know, that though dead, I have never died.”.
BY SIR ROBERT AYTON
I loved thee once, I'll love no more,
Thine be the grief as is the blame;
He that can love unloved again,
Hath better store of love than brain: God send me love
debts to pay, While unthrifts fool their love away.
Nothing could have my love o'erthrown,
If thou hadst still continued mine; Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own, I might perchance have yet been thine. But thou thy freedom did recall,
That if thou might elsewhere inthrall; And then how could I but disdain A captive's captive to remain?
When new desires had conquer'd thee,
And changed the object of thy will,
Yea, it had been a sin to go
And prostitute affection so,
Yet do thou glory in thy choice,
Thy choice of his good fortune boast;
The height of my disdain shall be,
To laugh at him, to blush for thee;