Excerpt from Rose and Vine

Music of Resurrection

There shall no blare of heavenly trumpets end
The long, long lapses of Obliviòn :
No brazen tongues like flaming swords must rend
The veils of darkness, that the Dead put on
In one wild pang remembrance long foregone:
Nor shall the slim white dancing-angels crowd
With silver bells and tabors, for that bright
Reveillè-music would be far too loud
For who have lain within the unechoing night.
Blotted away from anguish and delight:
But, underneath the great green tender Morn,
From the sole Star of Rising shall begin
A tone most faint and fine, as it were born
Of the last note that thrills a violin:
Like dew, like dew the sound shall pearl within
The dusty heart, and subtly breathe away
The dim disgrace that in the bosom lies,
Loose from the ears the heavy seal of clay,
And dream like light against the ruined eyes,
And move the soul to a soft stir of sighs:
Yea, still the clear far-dwelling note shall grow,
Till, as the jade-green Dayspring turns to gold,
Shall Sleep dissolve in waking, and we know

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