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To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.

Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year, blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.

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How hard he breathes ! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low :
'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.

Shake hands, before you die.
Old year, we'll dearly rue for

you :
What is it we can do for you ?
Speak out before you die.


Close up

eyes: tie

His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack ! our friend is gone.


his chin : Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone,

And waiteth at the door.
There's a new foot on the floor, my

And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.

To J. S.


The wind, that beats the mountain, blows

More softly round the open wold, And gently comes the world to those

That are cast in gentle mould. .


And me this knowledge bolder made,

Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade

Even with a verse your holy woe.


'Tis strange that those we lean on most,

Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed, Fall into shadow, soonest lost:

Those we love first are taken first.


God gives us love. Something to love

He lends us; but, when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve

Falls off, and love is left alone.

This is the curse of time. Alas!

In grief I am not all unlearned ;
Once through mine own doors Death did pass;

One went, who never hath returned.


He will not smile—not speak to me
Once more.

Two years his chair is seen Empty before us. That was he

Without whose life I had not been.

Your loss is rarer; for this star

Rose with you through a little arc
Of heaven, nor having wandered far,

Shot on the sudden into dark.


I knew your brother : his mute dust

I honor, and his living worth :


A man more pure and bold and just

Was never born into the earth.


I have not looked upon you nigh,

Since that dear soul hath fallen asleep. Great Nature is more wise than I:

I will not tell you not to weep.



And though my own eyes fill with dew,

Drawn from the spirit through the brain,
I will not even preach to you,
Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain.”

Let Grief be her own mistress still.

She loveth her own anguish deep
More than much pleasure. Let her will

Be done—to weep or not to weep.

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XII. I will not say

“ God's ordinance Of Death is blown in every wind; For that is not a common chance

That takes away a noble mind.


His memory long will live alone

In all our hearts, as mournful light That broods above the fallen sun,

And dwells in heaven half the night.


Vain solace! Memory standing near

Cast down her eyes, and in her throat Her voice seemed distant, and a tear

Dropt on the letters as I wrote.

I wrote I know not what. In truth,

How should I soothe you anyway,
Who miss the brother of your youth ?

Yet something I did wish to say:

For he too was a friend to me:

Both are my friends, and my true breast Bleedeth for both ;, yet it may be

That only silence suitetủ best.

Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more.

"Twere better I should cease Although myself could almost take

The place of him that sleeps in peace :


Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace :

Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,

And the great ages onward roll.


Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.

Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet;

Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.



You ask me, why, though ill at ease,

Within this region I subsist,

Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas ?

It is the land that freemen till,

That sober-suited Freedom chose,

The land where, girt with friends or foes. A man may speak the thing he will ; A land of settled government,

A land of just and old renown,

Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent: Where faction seldom gathers head,

But by degrees to fulness wrought,

The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute

Opinion, and induce a time

When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute;

Though Power should make from land to land

The name of Britain trebly great

Though every channel of the State Should almost choke with golden sand

Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth,

Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,

And I will see before I die
The palms and temples of the South.



OF old sat Freedom on the heights,

The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights:

She heard the torrents meet.

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