Classic Poem

At least he knew his fate--Condemned to die!
He bade farewell to all,
Then went below.
The darkness closed around him like a pall
The dead. Yet drain the bitter cup of woe
For her, e'en to the dregs, he would without a sigh.

Yet did he not despair. Athwart the gloom
A gleam of hope there stole.
As clothed in light,
He saw the form that could his fears control,
And which the darkness only made more bright--
It was her angel presence lit his rock-hewn tomb!

It beckoned him; he boldly followed till,
Beside the narrow cleft,
His axe had wrought,
It stood. He saw the fissure wider reft.
To challenge death then fly--ignoble thought!--
He knelt and prayed: "O God, but show me now Thy will!"