DEATH has a power to fright the soul,
And unseat courage from control.

But when, by love and sorrow led,
I passed your door and looked, with dread
To see the symbols of the dead;

And found, in place of black despair,
Which I all-looked for, hanging there
A wreath of buds and lavender;

I blessed the heart that would out-brave,
For love, the terror of the grave.