Quiet Dead!

Quiet, quiet dead, Have ye aught to say From your hidden bed In the earthy clay? Fathers, children, mothers, Ye are very quiet; Can ye shout, my brothers? I would know you by it! Have ye any words That are like to ours? Have ye any birds? Have ye any flowers? Could ye rise a minute When the sun is warm? I would know you in it, I would take no harm. I am half afraid In the ghostly night; If ye all obeyed I should fear you quite. But when day is breaking In the purple east I would meet you waking- One of you at least- When the sun is tipping Every stony block, And the sun is slipping Down the weathercock. Quiet, quiet dead, I will not perplex you; What my tongue hath said Haply it may vex you! Yet I hear you speaking With a quiet speech, As if ye were seeking Better things to teach: 'Wait a little longer, Suffer and endure Till your heart is stronger And your eyes are pure- A little longer, brother, With your fellow-men: We will meet each other Otherwhere again.'