I TELL you hopeless grief is passionless；

    That only men incredulous of despair

    Half-taught in anguish¹ through the midnight air

    Beat upward to God's throne in loud access

    Of shrieking² and reproach. Full desertness

    In souls as countries lieth silent-bare

    Under the blanching³ vertical⁴ eye-glare

    Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man express

    Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death—

    Most like a monumental statue set

    In everlasting⁵ watch and moveless woe⁶

    Till itself crumble⁷ to the dust beneath.

    Touch it； the marble eyelids⁸ are not wet：

    If it could weep it could arise and go.

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