The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/She Is Not Dead
She Is Not Dead.
She is not dead—oh! do not say she's dead.
Good friends, she lives! what though the rose hath fled
From her sweet face, doth not the lily there
As beautiful a form and 'semblance bear?
Good friends, I say she lives! her beauty lives!
And death destroys all loveliness of hue;
And were she dead, that lustre life but gives,
From her, methinks, would have evanished too.
Good friends, join with me—do but give me space
To feast upon the beauties of this face.
She lives in death, she triumphs in the tomb,
And, like a grave's flower, springs in fresher bloom
The nearer it is planted to the dead!
Raise, raise a little more her drooping head;
Her bosom heaves not—'tis, like marble, white,
And, like it, cold. But mark how exquisite
And finely fashioned is this pale stiff arm
Which sleeps upon it; touch it, it will not harm.
No, not one finger moves; they're locked in sleep,
And very cold withal; pray do not weep,
Else I would weep too, that I could not break
Her pleasant slumbers for your pity's sake.
Good friends, I pray withdraw that veil once more,
And say, is she not lovely as before;
Hath not this brow, this cheek, this neck, this arm,
And this fair body all some goodly charm
Hovering around them, though the soul is gone
On some far pilgrimage from this bright one?
Men say this maiden loved me—simple me,
Even from the cradle and sweet infancy,
Till we had learned speech to speak our loves
As others do, by streams and shaded groves;
But that is false in part, for never word
Of love from either lip by us was heard;
The tongue is false and cogging, but the eye,
The vanishing rosy smile, speak faithfully.
Yes, Love beneath these cold lids did repair
As to a crystal palace, there to blend
His essence with the lights they did defend;
And when they op'd their portals, what a light
Poured from the worlds they hid! Two bright
All-radiant worlds—two stars of living fire,
Having joint sway and majesty entire
Within their fair domains and beauteous spheres,
And gemmed with diamonds like to dropping tears,
And Love was there enshrined, and laughed through,
The pensive glories of these eyes so blue.