Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Grief
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Grief

1806-1861

I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless;
         That only men incredulous of despair,
         Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
         In souls as countries lieth silent-bare
         Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death--
         Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
         Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.


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