O perfect dead, O dead most dear,
I hold the breath of my soul to hear!

There must be pleasure in dying, sweet,
To make you so placid from head to feet!

I would tell you, darling, if I were dead,
And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed--

I would say, though the Angel of Death had laid
His sword on my lips and to keep it unsaid.

You should not ask vainly, with steaming eyes,
Which of all deaths was the chiefest surprise,

The very strangest and suddenest thing
Of all the surprises that dying must bring."