WHICH of the Angels sang so well in Heaven <br />That the approving Archon of the quire <br />Cried, “Come up hither!” and he, going higher, <br />Carried a note out of the choral seven; <br />Whereat that cherub to whom choice is given <br />Among the singers that on earth aspire <br />Beckon’d thee from us, and thou, and thy lyre <br />Sudden ascended out of sight? Yet even <br />In Heaven thou weepest! Well, true wife, to weep! <br />Thy voice doth so betray that sweet offence <br />That no new call should more exalt thee hence <br />But for thy harp. Ah, lend it, and such grace <br />Shall still advance thy neighbor that thou keep <br />Thy seat, and at thy side a vacant place!<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-death-of-mrs-browning/
