Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

From ‘In Memoriam’

AS sometimes in a dead man’s face,

To those that watch it more and more,

A likeness, hardly seen before,

Comes out—to some one of his race:

So, dearest, now thy brows are cold,

I see thee what thou art, and know

Thy likeness to the wise below,

Thy kindred with the great of old.

But there is more than I can see,

And what I see I leave unsaid,

Nor speak it, knowing Death has made

His darkness beautiful with thee.