Classic Poem

Where beams the sun the brightest
In the noons of sweet July?
Where falls the snow the lightest
From bleak December's sky?

Where can the weary lay his head,
And lay it safe the while
In a grave that never shuts its dead
From heaven's benignant smile?

Upon the earth in sunlight
Spring grass grows green and fair;
But beneath the earth is midnight,
Eternal midnight there.

Then why lament that those we love
Escape Earth's dungeon tomb?
As if the flowers that blow above
Could charm its undergloom?

From morning's faintest dawning
Till evening's deepest shade,
Thou wilt not cease thy mourning
To know where she is laid.

But if to weep above her grave
Be such a priceless boon,
Go, shed thy tears in Ocean's wave
And they will reach it soon.

Yet, midst thy wild repining —
Mad though that anguish be —
Think heaven on her is shining,
Even as it shines on thee.

With thy mind's vision pierce the deep;
Look how she rests below;
And tell me why such blessed sleep
Should cause such bitter woe?