Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Grief

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. 

1. Sonnets from the portuguese. 31. Thou comest! all is said without a word
2. Substitution
3. A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 26. I lived with visions for my company
5. Only a Curl

Edith Wharton Grief ("On immemorial altitudes august")

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