Dirge

Stay, Death, Not mine the Christus-wand

Wherewith to charge thee and command:

I plead. Most gently hold the hand

Of her thou leadest far away;

Fear thou to let her naked feet

Tread ashes--but let mosses sweet

Her footing tempt, where'er ye stray.

Shun Orcus; win the moonlit land

Belulled--the silent meadows lone,

Where never any leaf is blown

From lily-stem in Azrael's hand.

There, till her love rejoin her lowly

(Pensive, a shade, but all her own)

On honey feed her, wild and holy;

Or trance her with thy choicest charm.

And if, ere yet the lover's free,

Some added dusk thy rule decree--

That shadow only let it be

Thrown in the moon-glade by the palm.