Classic Poem

WHEREIN HIS PRAISES PROPOSE HER IMMORTALITY ON EARTH AS IN HEAVEN

The ardour and the odour and dark wonder
Of my sweet laurel and her golden glamour
That offered quiet from the dusty clamour,
Death the Despoiler tramples down in thunder.
As when the moon presses the proud sun under,
So now my lights go out, my voices stammer;
On Death I cry to halt Death's heavy hammer —
With such black thoughts Love tears my heart asunder.
O lovely lady, brief the sleep you slumbered:
An instant only, then amid the numbered,
You woke to gaze with them on God's deep glory:
And if my verse its cunning still recovers,
Among the noble minds, the noble lovers
It shall record your name, your deathless story.