In Memoriam 57. [Peace; come away: the song of woe]

Peace; come away: the song of woe
      Is after all an earthly song:
      Peace; come away: we do him wrong
To sing so wildly: let us go.

Come; let us go: your cheeks are pale;
      But half my life I leave behind:
      Methinks my friend is richly shrined;
But I shall pass; my work will fail.

Yet in these ears, till hearing dies,
      One set slow bell will seem to toll
      The passing of the sweetest soul
That ever look’d with human eyes.

I hear it now, and o’er and o’er,
      Eternal greetings to the dead;
      And “Ave, Ave, Ave,” said,
“Adieu, adieu,” for evermore.