Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/744

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JOHN KEBLE

1792-1866


620. Burial of the Dead

I thought to meet no more, so dreary seem'd
Death's interposing veil, and thou so pure,
          Thy place in Paradise
          Beyond where I could soar:

Friend of this worthless heart! but happier thoughts
Spring like unbidden violets from the sod,
          Where patiently thou tak'st
          Thy sweet and sure repose.

The shadows fall more soothing: the soft air
Is full of cheering whispers like thine own;
          While Memory, by thy grave,
          Lives o'er thy funeral day;

The deep knell dying down, the mourners' pause,
Waiting their Saviour's welcome at the gate.—
          Sure with the words of Heaven
          Thy spirit met us there,

And sought with us along th' accustom'd way
The hallow'd porch, and entering in, beheld
          The pageant of sad joy
          So dear to Faith and Hope.

O! hadst thou brought a strain from Paradise
To cheer us, happy soul, thou hadst not touch'd
          The sacred springs of grief
          More tenderly and true,