Beside the Dead

Sad seems the room, and strangely still, where lies
Some form now motionless, in which of late
Glad life exulted. Mark the changed estate,
The helpless hands, clasped in such peaceful wise,
The speechless lips, and unbeholding eyes
Which might not look into the eyes of Fate;
And as about the bed you watching wait,
What pleading pity to your spirit cries!

But, surely, yet a sadder thing is this
To look upon Love's face, where Love lies dead,
While all his memories of pain and bliss.
Thorn-crowned and rose-crowned, watch beside the bed.
Sped souls may live again, no man can tell;
But dead Love shall not break Death's awful spell.