To One Most Unhappy
If I should see thee, Most Unhappy, dead,
How should I dare to utter moan for thee?
Does any grieve for prisoner set free?
Or shall our tears upon his brow be shed
Who after long starvation full is fed?
Nay, rather, clamor, bells, exultantly;
Like wedding chimes ring out your harmony;
Since saddest Life to gladdest Death is wed.
Thou, whose whole life was sorrow! In thy grave
Shall not strange joy possess thee, and deep rest;
Such rest as no man knoweth, having breath?
Wilt thou not hear from far the old blasts rave
That long pursued thee with relentless quest,
And know them mocked, at last, by thee and Death?
How should I dare to utter moan for thee?
Does any grieve for prisoner set free?
Or shall our tears upon his brow be shed
Who after long starvation full is fed?
Nay, rather, clamor, bells, exultantly;
Like wedding chimes ring out your harmony;
Since saddest Life to gladdest Death is wed.
Thou, whose whole life was sorrow! In thy grave
Shall not strange joy possess thee, and deep rest;
Such rest as no man knoweth, having breath?
Wilt thou not hear from far the old blasts rave
That long pursued thee with relentless quest,
And know them mocked, at last, by thee and Death?
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