The Irreparable by James Wilson Holme (Philip Acton)

The tears that fall upon the whispering tomb
Of those we love are not the tears that stain:
Furrow the cheek they may, but not with pain,
So long as through the veil sweet memories come
And love that dies not permeates the gloom.
It is not Death that rends our hearts in twain
And leaves us hopeless, sorrowing in vain,
In anguish steeped, with desolation dumb.
The immedicable tears are those that fall
Upon the silent and reproachful grave
Of those we wronged, and would that wrong recall,
Yet ere from whom forgiveness we could crave
Death came with his cold hand and closed the door
And left us unforgiven for evermore.

From: Acton, Philip, Songs and Sonnets, 1889, Longmans, Green and Co: London, p. 107.
(https://archive.org/stream/cu31924013205020#page/n121/mode/2up)

Date:  1889

By: James Wilson Holme (Philip Acton) (1829-1892)

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