Eric: A Dirge

Eric, the beautiful, is gone to sleep:
Soft, lest he wake !
Eric, thy slumber is so very deep,
We may not ruffle it, howe'er we weep,
Never awake thee !

Morning, the beautiful, will soon arise
Out of her sleep.
Feel for the dawn of thine auroral eyes
Answering hers ; nay, thou wilt not arise,
Wboever weep thee !

Thy mother tearless kneels beside her boy :
Eric, awake !
Thy sisters fading, thou wert all her joy :
Eric, thou vanishest, her last, her boy :
Let her awake thee !

We yield thee to the tender earth to-morrow,
Eric, my love :
Lo ! how the wind wails ! ours are wrong and sorrow :
No fear, nor sin, nor storm, to-day, to-morrow,
Nor ever move thee !

I would be with thee by the warm South Sea,
Lulled into rest !
Yet the world-soul abideth even with me.
Here in the life-storm, whose dim anarchy
May ne'er molest thee !

Eric, my beautiful, lie thou asleep.
Vanishing blossom !
Our mystic Mother will inviolate keep
Thee with her buried seeds, until ye leap
Blithe from her bosom !