I TELL you hopeless grief is passionless；

    That only men incredulous of despair

    Half-taught in anguish through the midnight air

    Beat upward to God's throne in loud access

    Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness

    In souls as countries lieth silent-bare

    Under the blanching vertical 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 everlasting watch and moveless woe

    Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.

    Touch it； the marble eyelids are not wet：

    If it could weep it could arise and go.