LIFE
Those glassy eyes seem gazing yet, Though thou art there no more ;
Still smile the lips which once could " set The table in a roar."
Is he not gone, but only mute,
As when the whispering trees Hushed to a calm, or like a flute
With none to press the keys ?
Ah, friend ! Thine is some deeper death - The trees shall sigh once more ;
Soon shall the skilled musician's breath The flute's sweet sounds restore.
But thou, to silent earth consigned,
Shalt slumber with the past ; Thy friends shall seek, but shall not find ;
This look must be our last.
And thus, ere long, my loved ones all
Shall leave me lonely here, And I must cover with the pall
All whom my soul holds dear —
With but this thought to soothe the heart
In musing on the past : That the stern law which bids us pan
Shall blend our dust at last.
Spirit of life, why yield life's breath ?
Why seek thyself to slay ? Sure, thou art sweeter far than death,
Bloom lovelier than decay !
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