. The poems of Edwin Arnold .. . of the blissTo find out so, what a wisdom love is? Oh, perfect dead! Oh, dead most dear,I hold the breath of my soul to hear! I listen as deep as to horrible hell, As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. There must be pleasure in dying, sweet,To make you so placid from head to feet! I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, And twere your hot tears upon my brow shed,-^ BE AND SHE. 42o I would say, though the Angel of Death had laidHis sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes,Which of all deaths was the chiefest surp
. The poems of Edwin Arnold .. . of the blissTo find out so, what a wisdom love is? Oh, perfect dead! Oh, dead most dear,I hold the breath of my soul to hear! I listen as deep as to horrible hell, As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. There must be pleasure in dying, sweet,To make you so placid from head to feet! I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, And twere your hot tears upon my brow shed,-^ BE AND SHE. 42o I would say, though the Angel of Death had laidHis sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes,Which of all deaths was the chiefest surprise, The very strangest and suddenest thingOf all the surprises that dying must bring. Ah, foolish world! Oh, most kind dead!Though he told me, who will believe it was said? Who will believe that he heard her say, With the sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way: The utmost wonder is this,—I hear And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear; And am your angel, who was your bride,And know that, though dead, I have never -? <tm-a
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectbuddhaandbuddhism
