Classic Poem

Let them sleep on, O God, let them sleep on!
Here, by thy altar, in thy holy shrine;
The benediction of those eyes of thine,
O great and wise and gracious, lights upon
Th' accursed outcast, broken, spent, undone;
The moon upon the marble glitters white;
The dreaming cypress whispers to the night;
And all is peace, and deep oblivion.

I know the serpent looks will stir and wake,
And hiss alarums to the drowsy pack:
The hungry eyes will search, the wings will shake,
The claws will clash — and fierce and loud and deep
The hounds of hell will howl upon my track —
But now, but still — the Furies are asleep.