Her heart no more will beat
To feel the touch of that soft palm,
That ever seemed a new surprise,
Sending glad thoughts up to her eyes
To bless him with their holy calm, -

Sweet thoughts, they made her eyes as sweet.
How quiet are the hands

That wove those pleasant bands!

But that they do not rise and sink

With his calm breathing, I should think

That he were dropped asleep.

Alas! too deep, too deep

Is this his slumber!

Time scarce can number

The years e'er he will wake again.

O, may we see his eyelids open then!

As the airy gossamere,

Floating in the sunlight clear,
Where'er it toucheth clinging tightly,
Round glossy leaf or stump unsightly,
So from his spirit wandered out
Tendrils, spreading all about,

Knitting all things to its thrall
With a perfect love to all.

O stern word, — Nevermore!

-

He did float a little way

A down the stream of time,

With dreamy eyes watching the ripples play, Or listening their fairy chime ;

And, putting to the shore
While yet 't was early day,
Went calmly on his way
To dwell with us no more.
No jarring did he feel,

No grating on his vessel's keel:
A strip of silver sand

Mingled the waters with the land
Where he was seen no more!
O stern word, - Nevermore!

Full short his journey was; no dust
Of earth unto his sandals clave ;

The weary weight that old men must,
He bore not to his grave.

He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
And wandered hither, so his stay

With us was short, and 't was most meet That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet

To stand before his God!

O blest word, - Evermore !

"SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH.”

SHE is not dead, but sleepeth.
Why in your hearts this strife?
He who hath kept still keepeth.
The never-dying life.

And though that form must moulder

And mix again with earth,

In faith ye may behold her
In glory going forth.

For what to us seems dying

Is but a second birth,

A spirit upward flying

From the broken shell of earth.

104 "SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH."

We are the dead, the buried,
We who do yet survive,

In sin and sense interred;

The dead,

they are alive.

Freed from this earthly prison,
They seek another sphere.
They are not dead, but risen ;

And God is with them there.