And knew I could not die--O Death, didst thou Heed my vain glory, standing pale by thy dead? There is a spirit who grieves Amid earth's dying leaves; Was't thou that wept beside my brother's bed? For I did never mourn nor heed at all Him passing on his temporal elm-wood bier; I never shed a tear. The drooping sky spread grey-winged through my soul, While stones and earth did fall. That sound rings down the years--I hear it yet-- All earthly life's a winding funeral-- And though I never wept, But into the dark coach stept, Dreaming by night to answer the blood's sweet call, She who stood there, high-breasted, with small, wise lips, And gave me wine to drink and bread to eat, Has not more steadfast feet, But fades from my arms as fade from mariners' eyes The sea's most beauteous ships. The trees and hills of earth were once as close As my own brother, they are becoming dreams And shadows in my eyes; More dimly lies Guaya deep in my soul, the coastline gleams Faintly along the darkening crystalline seas. Glimmering and lovely still, 'twill one day go; The surging dark will flow Over my hopes and joys, and blot out all Earth's hills and skies and trees. I shall look up one night and see the Moon For the last time shining above the hills, And thou, silent, wilt ride Over the dark hillside. 'Twill be, perchance, the time of daffodils-- _'How come those bright immortals in the woods? Their joy being young, didst thou not drag them all Into dark graves ere Fall?'_ Shall life thus haunt me, wondering, as I go To thy deep solitudes? There is a figure with a down-turned torch Carved on a pillar in an olden time, A calm and lovely boy Who comes not to destroy But to lead age back to its golden prime. Thus did an antique sculptor draw thee, Death, With smooth and beauteous brow and faint sweet smile, Not haggard, gaunt and vile, And thou perhaps art thus to whom men may, Unvexed, give up their breath. But in my soul thou sittest like a dream Among earth's mountains, by her dim-coloured seas; A wild unearthly Shape In thy dark-glimmering cape, Piping a tune of wavering melodies, Thou sittest, ay, thou sittest at the feast Of my brief life among earth's bright-wreathed flowers, Staining the dancing hours With sombre gleams until, abrupt, thou risest And all, at once, is ceased. END OF TEXT.