grieve not


flower

Oh grieve not with thy bitter tears
The life that passes fast;
The gates of heaven will open wide
And take me in at last.

Then sit down meekly at my side
And watch my young life flee;
Then solemn peace of holy death
Come quickly unto thee.

But true love, seek me in the throng
Of spirits floating past,
And I will take thee by the hands
And know thee mine at last.

He and She and Angels Three

Ruthless hands have torn her
From one that loved her well;
Angels have upborn her,
Christ her grief to tell.

She shall stand to listen,
She shall stand and sing,
Till three winged angels
Her lover’s soul shall bring.

He and she and the angels three
Before God’s face shall stand;
There they shall pray among themselves
And sing at His right hand.

 

 

~Elizabeth Siddal~

 

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