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230 THE DESERTED HOUSE.
She vanished, we can scarcely say she died;
For but a now did heaven and earth divide:
She passed serenely with a single breath;
This moment perfect health, the next was death:
One sigh did her eternal bliss assure;
So little penance needs, when souls are almost pure.
As gentle dreams our waking thoughts pursue;
Or, one dream passed, we slide into a new;
So close they follow, such wild order keep,
We think ourselves awake, and are asleep:
So softly death succeeded life in her:
She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
THE DESERTED HOUSE. —Tennyson.
Life and thought have gone away,
Side by side,
Careless tenants they!
Close the door, the shutters close,
Come away! for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!
A PSALM OF LIFE. — Longfellow.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life,
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints, that perhaps another,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Let us, then, be up and doing,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
BERMUDAS. — Marvell.
Where the remote Bermudas ride,
"What should we do but sing His praise,
He lands us on a glassy stage, Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage. He gave us this eternal spring, Which here enamels everything;And sends the fowls to us in care, On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night;And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows. He makes the figs our mouths to meet;And throws the melons at our feet. But apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars, chosen by His hand From Lebanon, He stores the land;And makes the hollow seas, that roar, Proclaim the Ambergris on shore. He cast (of which we rather boast)
The gospel's pearl upon our coast;
And in these rocks for us did frame A temple, where to sound His name. O, let our voice His praise exalt, Till it arrive at heaven's vault!Which, thence (perhaps) rebounding, may Echo beyond the Mexique bay."
Thus sung they, in the English boat,
234 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY,
TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.—
"The heart knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy."—Proverbs xiv. 10.
Why should we faint and fear to live alone,
Since all alone — so Heaven has willed—we die,
Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own,
Each in its hidden sphere of joy or woe,
Our eyes see all around, — in gloom or glow, —
And well it is for us our God should feel
May readier spring to heaven, nor spend its zeal
For if one heart in perfect sympathy
Beat with another, answering love for love,
Weak mortals all entranced on earth would lie,
Or what if Heaven for once its searching light
The rude, bad thoughts that in our bosom's night
Who would not shun the dreary, uncouth place?
As if, fond leaning where her infant slept, A mother's arm a serpent should embrace;
So might we friendless live, and die unwept.