THE ORDER OF RELEASE

By Algernon Charles Swinburne

Thou canst not give it. Grace enough is ours

To know that pain for him has fallen on rest.

The worst we know was his on earth: the best,

We fain would think,— a thought no fear deflowers —

Is his, released from bonds of rayless hours.

Ah, turn our hearts from longing; bid our quest

Cease, as content with failure. This thy guest

Sleeps, vexed no more of time's imperious powers,

The spirit of hope, the spirit of change and loss,

The spirit of love bowed down beneath his cross,

Nor now needs comfort from the strength of song.

Love, should he wake, bears now no cross for him:

Dead hope, whose living eyes like his were dim,

Has brought forth better comfort, strength more strong.