Classic Poem

She came once only in a dream of death
And touched my face with wise, unhurried hand,
And “Man,” her silence said, “I understand—
The end is now, and quiet now, and faith.’
And lotos-like and moved with tender breath,
Her breast was calm as night and pale and bare,
And, watching thro' the gloom of burnished hair,
Her solemn eyes were deep, and tears beneath.
And tears were on the lips that kissed her mouth,
And only tears could speak to her, and tears
Fell burning on her breast—the tears of youth.
And life, and evermore its weariness
Was dim forgotten pain, the iterate years
Were ceased, the roar of time was echoless.