by Christina Rossetti
O Earth lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth.
Lie close around her,
Leave no room for mirth with its harsh laughter,
Nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,
Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth
Of all that irked her from her hour of birth;
With stillness that is almost Paradise.
Darkness more clear than noon-day holdeth her,
Silence more musical than any song;
Even her very heart hath ceased to stir;
Until the morning of Eternity her rest shall not begin nor end,
But be, and when she wakes she will not think it long.