Reconciliation

Word over all, beautiful as the sky!
Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in time
　　　be utterly lost;
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly
　　　wash again, and ever again, this soil’d world:
For my enemy is dead--a man divine as myself is dead;
I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin--I draw
　　　near; 5
Bend down, and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the
　　　coffin.