Alone, at night, he heard them sigh,—
These wild March winds that beat his tomb,—
Alone, at night, from those that die,
He sought one ray to light his gloom:

And still he heard the night-winds moan,
And still the mystery closed him round,
And still the darkness, cold and lone,
Sent forth no ray, returned no sound.

But time at last the answer brings,
And he, past all our suns and snows,
At rest with peasants and with kings,
Like them the wond'rous secret knows.

Alone, at night, we hear them sigh,—
These wild March winds that stir his pall;
And, helpless, wandering, lost, we cry
To his dim ghost to tell us all.

He loved us while he lingered here;
We loved him,—never love more true!
He will not leave in doubt and fear
The human grief that once he knew.

For never yet was born the day
When, faint of heart and weak of limb,
One suffering creature turned away,
Unhelped, unsoothed, uncheered by him!

But still, through darkness, dense and bleak,
The winds of March moan wildly round,
And still we feel that all we seek
Ends in that sigh of vacant sound.

He cannot tell us—none can tell
What waits behind the mystic veil!
Yet he who lived and died so well,
In that, perchance, has told the tale.

Not to the wastes of Nature drift,—
Else were this world an evil dream,—
The crown and soul of Nature's gift,
By Avon or by Charles's stream!

His song was like the pine-tree's sigh,
At midnight o'er a poet's grave,
Or like the sea-bird's distant cry,
Borne far across the twilight wave.

There is no flower of meek delight,
There is no star of heavenly pride,
That shines not fairer and more bright
Because he lived, loved, sang, and died.

Wild winds of March, his requiem sing!
Weep o'er him, April's sorrowing skies!
Till come the tender buds of spring
To deck the pillow where he lies:

Till violets pour their purple flood,
That wandering myrtle shall not lack,
And, royal with the summer's blood,
The roses that he loved come back:

Till all that Nature gives of light,
To rift the gloom and point the way,
Shall sweetly pierce our mortal night,
And symbol his immortal day!