See also: Poems by all poets about death and All poems by Frederick Wiliam Henry Myers
On A Grave At Grindelwald
Here let us leave him; for his shroud the snow,
For funeral-lamps he has the planets seven,
For a great sign the icy stair shall go
Between the heights to heaven.
One moment stood he as the angels stand,
High in the stainless eminence of air;
The next, he was not, to his fatherland
Translated unaware.
