In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 74

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.