Classic Poem

WHEREIN HER DEATH MARKED THE BEGINNING OF HIS OWN

Death hath no power over that dear face,
But it on death confers a dignity;
Lamp of my spirit! How well she teaches me!
Who learns to die may there his lesson trace.
That Holy One! Who spilled His blood apace,
But Who undid the bolts of Hell — even He
Drives from my soul death's dark anxiety:
Then welcome, Death! I would put on thy grace.
No dallying! It is high time I went;
Alas! how little hath my stay bestead
Since she, Madonna Laura, gave up breath:
Life's spring since then hath been long overspent —
In her I lived, with hers my life hath sped —
The hour she died I felt in my heart death!