Some syllables are swords.
They are all gone into the world of light, and I alone sit lingering here.
If thou canst but thither, There grows the flower of Peace, The Rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress and thy ease.
Dear beauteous death, the jewel of the just.
I saw Eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright.
Dear Night! this world's defeat; The stop to busy fools; care's check and curb; The day of spirits; my soul's calm retreat Which none disturb! Christ's progress, and His prayer-time; The hours to which high Heaven cloth chime.