If any vague desire should rise,
      That holy Death ere Arthur died
      Had moved me kindly from his side,
And dropt the dust on tearlesss eyes;

Then fancy shapes, as fancy can,
      The grief my loss in him had wrought,
      A grief as deep as life or thought,
But stay'd in peace with God and man.

I make a picture in the brain;
      I hear the sentence that he speaks;
      He bears the burthen of the weeks
But turns his burthen into gain.

His credit thus shall set me free;
      And, influence-rich to soothe and save,
      Unused example from the grave
Reach out dead hands to comfort me.


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Last modified 16 February 2010