Page:Poems (IA poemslowell00lowe).pdf/123

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A Dirge.
105
 Which it dreamed of ever;Thou wast guilty of a rhymeLearned in a benigner clime,And of that more grievous crime,—An ideal too sublimeFor the low-hung sky of Time.
The calm spot where thy body liesGladdens thy soul in Paradise, It is so still and holy;Thy body sleeps serenely there,And well for it thy soul may care,It was so beautiful and rare, Lily-white so wholly:From so pure and sweet a frameThy spirit parted as it came, Gentle as a maiden;Now it hath its full of rest,Sods are lighter on its breastThan the great prophetic guest Wherewith it was laden.
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