LITTLE NELLY'S FUNERAL. AND now the bell the bell She had so often heard by night and day, E'en as a living voice Rung its remorseless toll for her, Decrepit age, and vigorous life, And blooming youth, and helpless infancy, Poured forth, on crutches, in the pride of strength And health, in the full blush Of promise, the mere dawn of life, To gather round her tomb. Old men were there Whose eyes were dim And senses failing, Grandames, who might have died ten years ago, The living dead in many shapes and forms, What was the death it would shut in, To that which still could crawl and creep above it! Along the crowded path they bore her now, That covered it, whose day on earth Had been as fleeting. Under that porch, where she had sat when Heaven O, it is hard to take to heart The lesson that such deaths will teach! But let no man reject it, For it is one that all must learn, And is a mighty, universal truth. When death strikes down the innocent and young, For every fragile form from which he lets The parting spirit free, A hundred virtues rise, In shapes of mercy, charity, and love, To walk the world and bless it. Of every tear That sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, Some good is born, some gentler nature comes. TO A DYING INFANT. SLEEP, little baby! sleep! Yes, with the quiet dead, O, many a weary heart, Weary of life's dull part, Would fain lie down with thee! Flee, little tender nursling! Flee to thy grassy nest ; There the first flowers shall blow, The first pure flakes of snow Shall fall upon thy breast. Peace! Peace! The little bosom Peace! Peace! That tremulous sigh Speaks his departure nigh, Those are the damps of death. I've seen thee in thy beauty, A thing all life and glee ; But never then wert thou So beautiful as now, Baby, thou seem'st to me, Thine upturned eyes glazed over, Like harebells wet with dew, Already veiled and hid, By the convulsed lid, Their pupils darkly blue, |