SONNET.
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Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;Lie close around her; leave no room for mirthWith its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.She hath no questions, she hath no replies,Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearthOf all that irked her from the hour of birth;With stillness that is almost Paradise.Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,Silence more musical than any song;Even her very heart has ceased to stir:Until the morning of EternityHer rest shall not begin nor end, but be;And when she wakes she will not think it long.
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