Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/245

Rh O grass, O flowers, which she Swept with her gown that veiled The angelic breast unseen ; O sacred air serene, Whence the divine-eyed Love my heart assailed, By all of ye be heard This my supreme lament, my dying word. Oh, if it be my fate (As Heaven shall so decree) That Love shall close for me my weeping eyes. Some courteous friend I supplicate Midst these to bury me, Whilst my enfranchised spirit homeward flies ; Less dreadful death shall rise, If I may bear this hope To that mysterious goal. For ne'er did weary soul Find a more restful spot in all Earth's scope, Nor in a grave more tranquil could win free From outworn flesh and weary limbs to flee. Perchance the time shall be When to my place of rest, With milder grace my wild fawn shall return Here where she looked on me Upon that day thrice blest : Then she shall bend her radiant eyes that yearn In search of me, and (piteous sight !) shall learn That I, amidst the stones, am clay.