Kneel not and leave me: mirth is in its grave.
True friend, sweet words were ours, sweet words decay;
Believe, the perfume once this violet gave
Lives - lives no more, though mute tears answer nay.
Break off delay!

Dead, Love is dead! Ay, canceled all his due.
We say he mocks repose - we cannot tell -
Close up his eyes and crown his head with rue,
Say in his ear, sweet Love, farewell! farewell!
A last low knell.

Forbear to move him. Peace, why should we stay?
Go back no more to listen for his tread.
Resume our old calm face of every day:
Not all our kneeling turns that sacred head
Long dear, Long Dead!