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

 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,