Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 36 1834.pdf/13



Oft in still night-dreams a departed face Bends o'er me with sweet earnestness of eye, Wearing no more of earthly pains a trace, But all the tender pity that may lie On the clear brow of Immortality; Calm, yet profound—soft rays illume that mien, The unshadowed moonlight of some far off sky Around it floats, transparently serene, As a pure veil of waters.—O rich sleep! The spells are mighty in thy regions deep, To glorify with reconciling breath, Effacing, brightening; giving forth to shine Beauty's high truth, and how much more divine Thy power when linked in this with thy strong brother—Death!