Classic Poem

The tolling ceased, the last hymn died away;
No sound recalled the loss that wrung my breast.
My heart was lighter, 'mid my grief's dismay,
Since she by pious hands was laid to rest.
As if the white shroud in the house yet lay,
I still was doubtful where to seek her best;
She seemed with gestures sad, without a home,
To hover 'twixt the earth and heaven's high dome.
The setting sun shone bright; I sat in shade,
And looked afar, across the meadows green;
Methought two children in the distance played
In life's full bloom, as we had blooming been.
Then sank the sun, gray mists a curtain made,
The vision fled, dark shadows veiled the scene.
Then — upward gazing — in the Fields on high
The sunset's glow and her I loved could spy.