Whispers of Heavenly Death Ernst Bacon

Whispers of heavenly death murmur’d I hear
Labial gossip of night, sibilant chorals
Footsteps gently ascending, mystical breezes wafted soft and low
Ripples of unseen rivers, tides of a current flowing, forever flowing
(Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human tears?)

I see, just see skyward, great cloud-masses
Mournfully slowly they roll, silently swelling and mixing
With at times a half-dimm’d sadden’d far-off star
Appearing and disappearing

(Some parturition rather, some solemn immortal birth;
On the frontiers to eyes impenetrable
Some soul is passing over.)