Shapes of brightness overlean thee, Flash their diadems of youth On the ringlets which half screen thee, While thou smilest ... not in sooth _Thy_ smile, but the overfair one, dropt from some etherial mouth. VIII. Haply it is angels' duty, During slumber, shade by shade To fine down this childish beauty To the thing it must be made Ere the world shall bring it praises, or the tomb shall see it fade. IX. Softly, softly! make no noises! Now he lieth dead and dumb; Now he hears the angels' voices Folding silence in the room Now he muses deep the meaning of the Heaven-words as they come. X. Speak not! he is consecrated; Breathe no breath across his eyes: Lifted up and separated On the hand of God he lies In a sweetness beyond touching, held in cloistral sanctities. XI. Could ye bless him, father--mother, Bless the dimple in his cheek? Dare ye look at one another And the benediction speak? Would ye not break out in weeping and confess yourselves too weak? XII. He is harmless, ye are sinful; Ye are troubled, he at ease; From his slumber virtue winful Floweth outward with increase. Dare not bless him! but be blessèd by his peace, and go in peace. _THE FOURFOLD ASPECT._ I. When ye stood up in the house With your little childish feet, And, in touching Life's first shows, First the touch of Love did meet,-- Love and Nearness seeming one, By the heartlight cast before, And of all Beloveds, none Standing farther than the door; Not a name being dear to thought, With its owner beyond call; Not a face, unless it brought Its own shadow to the wall; When the worst recorded change Was of apple dropt from bough, When love's sorrow seemed more strange Than love's treason can seem now;-- Then, the Loving took you up Soft, upon their elder knees, Telling why the statues droop Underneath the churchyard trees, And how ye must lie beneath them Through the winters long and deep, Till the last trump overbreathe them, And ye smile out of your sleep. Oh, ye lifted up your head, and it seemed as if they said A tale of fairy ships With a swan-wing for a sail; Oh, ye kissed their loving lips For the merry merry tale-- So carelessly ye thought upon the Dead! II.