THE LIVING AND THE DEAD.
205
Thou flower of Heaven that nightly dost bloom,
O'er the earth as her flowers bloom over the tomb!
They are but a beautiful emblem of thee,
Blooming on the far shores of eternity:
They die on the graves of full many a clime,
As thou too shalt die at the funeral of time.
O'er the earth as her flowers bloom over the tomb!
They are but a beautiful emblem of thee,
Blooming on the far shores of eternity:
They die on the graves of full many a clime,
As thou too shalt die at the funeral of time.
THE LIVING AND THE DEAD.
Mourn not the dead!—No more the death by sorrow.
That poisons life even to its inmost springs,
Or lights with sickly hope each dull to-morrow,
Hath power to weigh to earth their spirit's wings.
Their sighs are hushed; the griefs have long departed
That concentrated in their bosom's core;
The links that bound them to the earth are parted,
Why should we mourn for them, the weary hearted?—
Weep for the dead no more!
That poisons life even to its inmost springs,
Or lights with sickly hope each dull to-morrow,
Hath power to weigh to earth their spirit's wings.
Their sighs are hushed; the griefs have long departed
That concentrated in their bosom's core;
The links that bound them to the earth are parted,
Why should we mourn for them, the weary hearted?—
Weep for the dead no more!
Tears for the living!—that each fond endeavor
To snatch their name from dark oblivion's wave,
Though in the strife the tenderer heart-strings sever,
Should only drag them nearer to the grave!—
To snatch their name from dark oblivion's wave,
Though in the strife the tenderer heart-strings sever,
Should only drag them nearer to the grave!—
