It grates on us to hear the flood of life
Whirl rustling onward, senseless of our loss. 
The bee hums on; around the blossomed vine
Whirs the light humming-bird; the cricket chirps; 40
The locust’s shrill alarum stings the ear;
Hard by, the cock shouts lustily; from farm to farm,
His cheery brothers, telling of the sun,
Answer, till far away the joyance dies: 
We never knew before how God had filled
The summer air with happy living sounds;
All round us seems an overplus of life,
And yet the one dear heart lies cold and still. 
It is most strange, when the great miracle
Hath for our sakes been done, when we have had 50
Our inwardest experience of God,
When with his presence still the room expands,
And is awed after him, that naught is changed,
That Nature’s face looks unacknowledging,
And the mad world still dances heedless on
After its butterflies, and gives no sign. 
’Tis hard at first to see it all aright: 
In vain Faith blows her trump to summon back
Her scattered troop:  yet, through the clouded glass
Of our own bitter tears, we learn to look 60
Undazzled on the kindness of God’s face;
Earth is too dark, and Heaven alone shines through.

It is no little thing, when a fresh soul
And a fresh heart, with their unmeasured scope
For good, not gravitating earthward yet,
But circling in diviner periods,
Are sent into the world,—­no little thing,
When this unbounded possibility
Into the outer silence is withdrawn. 
Ah, in this world, where every guiding thread 70
Ends suddenly in the one sure centre, death,
The visionary hand of Might-have-been
Alone can fill Desire’s cup to the brim!

How changed, dear friend, are thy part and thy child’s! 
He bends above thy cradle now, or holds
His warning finger out to be thy guide;
Thou art the nursling now; he watches thee
Slow learning, one by one, the secret things
Which are to him used sights of every day;
He smiles to see thy wondering glances con 80
The grass and pebbles of the spirit-world,
To thee miraculous; and he will teach
Thy knees their due observances of prayer. 
Children are God’s apostles, day by day
Sent forth to preach of love, and hope, and peace;
Nor hath thy babe his mission left undone. 
To me, at least, his going hence hath given
Serener thoughts and nearer to the skies,
And opened a new fountain in my heart
For thee, my friend, and all:  and oh, if Death 90
More near approaches meditates, and clasps
Even now some dearer, more reluctant hand,
God, strengthen thou my faith, that I may see
That ’tis thine angel, who, with loving haste,
Unto the service of the inner shrine,
Doth waken thy beloved with a kiss.

EURYDICE