Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
V. Death and BereavementThe Two Mysteries
Mary Mapes Dodge (18311905)
W
The folded hands, the awful calm, the cheek so pale and chill;
The lids that will not lift again, though we may call and call;
The strange white solitude of peace that settles over all.
This dread to take our daily way, and walk in it again;
We know not to what other sphere the loved who leave us go,
Nor why we ’re left to wonder still, nor why we do not know.
Should come and ask us, “What is life?” not one of us could say.
Life is a mystery, as deep as ever death can be;
Yet, O, how dear it is to us, this life we live and see!
“So death is sweet to us, beloved! though we may show you nought;
We may not to the quick reveal the mystery of death—
Ye cannot tell us, if ye would, the mystery of breath.”
So those who enter death must go as little children sent.
Nothing is known. But I believe that God is overhead;
And as life is to the living, so death is to the dead.