THE DEAD.
"Weep not for the holy dead, calmly they rest,
Their bark safely moored by the Isles of the Blest;
But weep for the living, on Time's troubled sea,
Their hope-freighted bark may a shattered wreck be.
Their bark safely moored by the Isles of the Blest;
But weep for the living, on Time's troubled sea,
Their hope-freighted bark may a shattered wreck be.
Yes, weep for the living, weep not for the dead,
For the captive soul freed, from its prison-house fled;
Should we grieve for the song-bird from falling nest flown,
That softly sings, soaring, I fly to my own!
For the captive soul freed, from its prison-house fled;
Should we grieve for the song-bird from falling nest flown,
That softly sings, soaring, I fly to my own!
The peasant, now prince, the hut changed for hall,
A robe, crown, and palace for shroud, coffin, pall;
O! vision most holy, who questions their gain
Who have passed to the land where is never more pain?
A robe, crown, and palace for shroud, coffin, pall;
O! vision most holy, who questions their gain
Who have passed to the land where is never more pain?
