Goblin Market, and other poems, by Christina Rossetti

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;

    Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;

    Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth

With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.

She hath no questions, she hath no replies,

    Hushed in and curtained with a blessèd dearth

    Of all that irked her from the hour of birth;

With stillness that is almost Paradise.

Darkness more clear than noon-day holdeth her,

    Silence more musical than any song;

Even her very heart has ceased to stir:

Until the morning of Eternity

Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;

    And when she wakes she will not think it long.