Menella Bute Smedley

1820-1877 / England

For Music

Weep not for death,
'Tis but a fever still'd,
A pang suppress'd, a fear at rest,
A solemn hope fulfill'd;
The moonlight on the sea asleep
Is not more calm: why shouldst thou weep?
Weep, weep, for change,
For gleams that fade in shining,
For hope's first fear, for joy's first tear,
For strong love's slow declining.
Morn's lightest shadow on the seas
Tell us of midnight: weep for these!
Weep not for death,
The fount of tears is seal'd;
Who knows how bright the inward light
To those shut eyes reveal'd!
Who knows what cloudless peace may fill
The heart which seems so cold and still!

Weep, weep, for life,
For smiles that end in sighing,
For love whose quest hath never rest,
For worn hearts hourly dying;
Weep not, when silence locks the breath,
Life is the bitterness of death!
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