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;