WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. Oн, lightly, lightly tread Upon these early ashes, ye that weep For her that slumbers in the dreamless sleep, With Of this eternal bed! Hallow her humble tomb 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, In the grave's peaceful breast. 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. Aye-though their memory's green, In the fond heart, where love for them was born, With sorrow's silent dews, each eve, each morn, Be freshly kept, unseen 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, It mounts! it mounts! Oh, spread The banner of gay victory- and sing For the enfranchised- and bright garlands bringBut weep not for the dead! BENJAMIN B. THATCHER. I WILL REMEMBER THEE. I WILL remember thee; thy form will be I will remember thee, with loveliest bloom Of dark and long oblivion ;) likest thee, Their bursting, blushing charms, and therefore dear to me. I will remember thee, when woods, as now, 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 Shall murmur of thee; and the fairest star That shines above me, as mild evening weaves Her round pavillon in its splendor - far, 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, Or land, in joy or anguish, I'll remember thee! 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. Press sunward on. Thou shalt not be alone. Will have an eye on thee - press on! press on! |