To The Mourners Of Love Poem by Emily Pfeiffer

COME sit thee down and rest at Death's pale feet,
Learn of his silence, in his shadow lie,
And never shade more false will come thee nigh;
Nay, think no shame of sorrow, it is meet,
Think shame of idle love that words can cheat;
So love that looks on death and cannot die,
Will bear Death's message with his parting sigh,
And find for thee erewhile a loftier seat.

O fire of love that makes the soul athirst
For life, eternal as thou seemest to be!
Or thou art deathless in us, or the worst
Fiend of a hell that but exists by thee,—
And thou wilt die from off the earth accurst,
Or, newly armed, from death will set us free.