Part 2 / Book 3 — 1. PEACE-YEARNING.

O let thy wounds bleed on, and let Thy tears for ever flow unbidden— In sorrow revels secret joy, And a sweet balm in tears is hidden. If strangers’ hand did wound thee not, Thou by thyself must needs be wounded; Thank God with all thy heart, if tears To wet thy cheek have e’er abounded. The noise of day is hush’d, and night In long dark mantle comes from heaven; While in her arms, nor fool nor dolt Can break the rest to soothe thee given. Here thou art safe from music’s noise, And from the piano’s hammer-hammer, From the grand opera’s pompous notes, And the bravura’s fearful clamour. Here thou art not pursued, nor plagued By endless crowds of idle smatt’rers; Nor by the genius Giacomo,[85] And all the clique of world-known chatt’rers. O grave, thou art the Paradise Of ears that shun the rabble’s chorus; Death’s good indeed, yet better ’twere Our loving mothers never bore us.