I. #
How shall the burial rite be read?
The solemn song be sung?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
That ever died so young?
II. #
Her friends are gazing on her,
And on her gaudy bier,
And weep! — oh! to dishonor
Dead beauty with a tear!
III. #
They loved her for her wealth —
And they hated her for her pride —
But she grew in feeble health,
And they love her — that she died.
IV. #
They tell me (while they speak
Of her “costly broider’d pall”)
That my voice is growing weak —
That I should not sing at all —
V. #
Or that my tone should be
Tun’d to such solemn song
So mournfully — so mournfully,
That the dead may feel no wrong.
VI. #
But she is gone above,
With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
Of the dead, who is my bride. —
VII. #
Of the dead — dead who lies
All perfum’d there,
With the death upon her eyes,
And the life upon her hair.
VIII. #
Thus on the coffin loud and long
I strike — the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song,
Shall be the accompaniment.
IX. #
Thou died’st in thy life’s June —
But thou did’st not die too fair:
Thou did’st not die too soon,
Nor with too calm an air.
X. #
From more than fiends on earth,
Thy life and love are riven,
To join the untainted mirth
Of more than thrones in heaven —
XI. #
Therefore, to thee this night
I will no requiem raise,
But waft thee on thy flight,
With a Pæan of old days.