Oliver Madox Brown (1855–1874)

NO more these passion-worn faces shall men’s eyes

Behold in life. Death leaves no trace behind

Of their wild hate and wilder love, grown blind

In desperate longing, more than the foam which lies

Splashed up awhile where the showered spray descries

The waves whereto their cold limbs were resign’d;

Yet ever doth the sea-wind’s undefin’d

Vague wailing shudder with their dying sighs.

For all men’s souls ’twixt sorrow and love are cast

As on the earth each lingers his brief space,

While surely nightfall comes where each man’s face

In death’s obliteration sinks at last

As a deserted wind-tossed sea’s foam-trace—

Life’s chilled boughs emptied by death’s autumn-blast.