Too dulled, it may be, for a last good-bye, Too comfortless for any one to soothe, Show him familiar faces long so dear And lead him back in reach of words we say. A helpless charmless spectacle of He only cannot utter yea or nay ruth Through long last hours, so long while yet they fly. So long to those who hopeless in their fear Watch the slow breath and look for what they dread : While I supine with ears that cease to hear, With eyes that glaze, with heart pulse running down (Alas! no saint rejoicing on her bed), May miss the goal at last, may miss a crown. 28 In life our absent friend is far away: But death may bring our friend exceeding near, In any voice accustomed to our For Faith and Hope shall merge Blooming in bright summer bowers; together In Charity. 20 September 1844. EARTH AND HEAVEN WATER calmly flowing, Is both scent and flower, Where the earth may nourish: So are waters, clear and pure, BURIAL ANTHEM FLESH of our flesh, bone of our bone For thou and we in Christ are oneThy soul unto its rest hath flown, And thou hast left us all alone Our weary race to run As I have met with no adventure Of wonder and refulgence, In doubt and want and sin and I must write plain things at a pain, Whilst thou wilt never sin again. For us remaineth heaviness; venture, And trust to your indulgence. Thou never more shalt feel dis- The apple-tree is showing tress, For thou hast found repose Beside the bright eternal river, That clear and pure flows on for ever And sings as on it flows. And it is better far for thee To reach at once thy rest Than share with us earth's misery, Or tainted joy at best. Brother, we will not mourn for thee, Although our hearts be weary Of struggling with our enemy When all around is dreary: But we will pray that still we may Press onward in the narrow way, With a calm thankful resignation, And joy in this our desolation; And we will hope at length to be With our Great Head-and, friend, with thee Beside that river blest. 3 March 1845. LINES TO MY GRANDFATHER DEAR Grandpapa,-To be obedient, I'll try and write a letter; Which (as I hope you'll deem expedient) Must serve for lack of better. My Muse of late was not prolific ; And sometimes I must feel To make a verse a task terrific Rather of woe than weal. Its blossom of bright red, With a soft colour glowing Upon its leafy bed. The pear-tree's pure white blossom Like stainless snow is seen ; And all earth's genial bosom Is clothed with varied green. The fragrant may is blooming, The yellow cowslip blows; Among its leaves entombing Peeps forth the pale primrose. The king-cup flowers and daisies Are opening hard by ; And many another raises Its head, to please and die. I love the gay wild flowers Waving in fresh Spring air :— Give me uncultured bowers Before the bright parterre. And now my letter is concluded; I hope to be forgiven. With love to all the beautiful And those who cannot slaughter, I sign myself Your dutiful Affectionate grand-daughter. 1 May 1845. SUMMER HARK to the song of greeting! The tall trees Murmur their welcome in the southern breeze; Amid the thickest foliage many a bird Sits singing, their shrill matins scarcely heard One by one, but all together What welcome with a song like See in the south a radiant form, Her fair head crowned with roses; From her bright footpath flies the storm; Upon her breast reposes All her path is strewn with flowers; And now she alights on the earth To play with her children the flowers; She touches the stems, and the buds have birth, And gently she trains them in bowers. And the bees and the birds are glad, And the wind catches warmth from her breath, And around her is nothing sad Nor any traces of death. Ere she may wing her flight With all her love and light, And leave the flowers and the summer bowers To wither in autumn and winter hours. And must they wither then? Into their earthy tomb. But alas they are withered all, And how can dead flowers bind her? She pushes away her pall, |