A Sequence of Sonnets on the Death of Robert Browning

He held no dream worth waking: so he said,

He who stands now on death's triumphal steep,

Awakened out of life wherein we sleep

And dream of what he knows and sees, being dead.

But never death for him was dark or dread:

'Look forth' he bade the soul, and fear not. Weep,

All ye that trust not in his truth, and keep

Vain memory's vision of a vanished head

As all that lives of all that once was he

Save that which lightens from his word : but we,

Who, seeing the sunset-coloured waters roll,

Yet know the sun subdued not of the sea,

Nor weep nor doubt that still the spirit is whole,

And life and death but shadows of the soul.