Page:Dreams and Images.djvu/304

The wonder-house of all most rare,
Most deathless, and most dear;
Where the bereaved heart,
Life's exile held apart,
Would turn for love-warmth and abiding cheer.
Yea,—earth can be so kind,—
Then ye that rule the wind,
Are ye of less appeal?
Ye spirits of the stars
And regions where the suns
Themselves as atoms wheel
Beneath your thundering cars?
Cerulean ones!—
Or goddesses, or saints,
Or demiurge, or Trinities,
Wherewith heaven highest faints!
Are ye less kind than these
Dim vaults of clay,
Ye boasts and fathers of the ancient day?
Thou god Avernian, Dis!—behold
What timid form and old
Adown thy purple gulf descends
Unto the arch of Death—(Grim friend of friends!
Be thou placated!) 'Tis a mother, see,
Takes her first step—a child—into eternity!
Leave her not fearful there
Who was of love entire,
So gentle and so fair!—
Thy majesty and dread withhold
For the high head and bold,—
Imperial Death, mock not thyself with ire!
Nay,—then it was not fear
That stayed her foot the while;