Rest : a Victorian poem

REST

O earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;

Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;

Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth

With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.

She hath no questions, she hath no replies,

Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth

Of 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 Eternity Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;

And when she wakes she will not think it long.

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