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WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD.
Он, lightly, lightly tread
Upon these early ashes, ye that weep
For her that slumbers in the dreamless sleep,
Of this eternal bed!
Hallow her humble tomb
With your kind sorrow, ye that knew her well, And climbed with her youth's brief but brilliant dell, 'Mid sunlight and fair bloom.
Glad voices whispered round.
As from the stars,- bewildering harmonies,
With hopes like blossoms shone :
Oh, vainly these shall glow, and vainly wreathe
Yet weep not for the dead
That in the glory of green youth do fall,
Weep not! They are at rest
From misery, and madness, and all strife,
That makes but night of day, and death of life,
Nor ever more shall come
To them the breath of envy, nor the rankling eye Shall follow them, where side by side they lie Defenceless, noiseless, dumb.
though their memory's green,
In the fond heart, where love for them was born, With sorrow's silent dews, each eve, each morn,
Yet weep not! They shall soar
As the freed eagle of the skies, that pined,
Rejoice! rejoice! How long
Should the faint spirit wrestle with its clay,
Fluttering in vain for the far cloudless day,
It mounts! it mounts!
The banner of gay victory—and sing
For the enfranchised
and bright garlands bring
But weep not for the dead!
I WILL REMEMBER THEE.
I WILL remember thee; thy form will be
That gave those lost hours wings of bliss to me,
I will remember thee, with loveliest bloom
(Where rest thy sister's ashes, in the land.
Of dark and long oblivion ;) likest thee,
Their bursting, blushing charms, and therefore dear to me.
I will remember thee, when woods, as now,
O'ershadow me at noontide; and the sweet Breathings of virgin violets, as pure as thou,
No purer, from dim moss-banks of the hill-side greet Me in the weary wanderings, 'mid the trees.
Of mine own father-clime - to 'mind me but of these.
I'll think of thee with streamlets; and green leaves
But not forgotten will I sadly choose
To link with thoughts of thee, when most I love to muse.
I will remember thee, in coming days,
When I may tread the stranger's lonely shore, And ponder upon old temples in the haze
Of twilight-where the mighty are no more (Though still the soil teems richly with the pride Of buried greatness, and the skies are dyed
With hues of gone-down glory :) even then,
TO A SISTER
EMBARKING ON A MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE.
* Thou knowest well
The work that is before thee, and the joys
That even now, like spirits of the dead,
Seen dimly in the living mourner's dreams,
And thrilling, ever and anon, the notes
Long loved of old-O, hear them, heed them not.
Will have an eye on thee-press on! press on!