Amid my frolic here I wish to pause and offer something to my friends who grieve the loss of a friend. When Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote this, I believe that she wrote a last line that is one of the greatest in English poetry:
I tell you hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted men express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like Death–
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet.
If it could weep, it could arise and go.