In Memoriam A.H.H.
Lazarus left his charnel-cave,
And home to Mary’s house return’d,
Was this demanded–if he yearn’d
hear her weeping by his grave?
wert thou, brother, those four days?’
There lives no record of reply,
Which telling what it is to die
surely added praise to praise.
every house the neighbours met,
The streets were fill’d with joyful sound,
A solemn gladness even crown’d
purple brows of Olivet.
a man raised up by Christ!
The rest remaineth unreveal’d;
He told it not; or something seal’d
lips of that Evangelist.
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