WITH TEARS THEY BURIED YOU TO-DAY

WITH tears they buried you to-day, But well I knew no turf could hold Your gladness long beneath the mould,

Or cramp your laughter in the clay;

I smiled while others wept for you Because I knew.

And now you sit with me to-night Here in our old, accustomed place; Tender and mirthful is your face,

Your eyes with starry joy are bright—

Oh, you are merry as a song For love is strong!

They think of you as lying there Down in the churchyard grim and old; They think of you as mute and cold, A wan, white thing that once was fair, With dim, sealed eyes that never may Look on the day.

But love cannot be coflined so In clod and darkness; it must rise And seek its own in radiant guise,

With immortality aglow,

Making of death’s triumphant sting A little thing.

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