That she held in her outstretched hands, and flung 66 Passing away! passing away!" While I gazed at that fair one's cheek, a shade Of thought, or care, stole softly over, Like that by a cloud in a summer's day made, Looking down on a field of blossoming clover. The rose yet lay on her cheek, but its flush Had something lost of its brilliant blush; And the light in her eye, and the light on the wheels, That marched so slowly round above her, For she looked like a mother whose first babe lay While yet I looked, what a change there came! Her eye was quenched, and her cheek was wan: Stooping and staffed was her withered frame, Yet just as busily swung she on; The garland beneath her had fallen to dust, From the shrivelled lips of the toothless crone,— CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. FEAR was within the tossing bark And men stood breathless in their dread, But One was there, who rose and said To the wild sea, Be still! And the wind ceased-it ceased! That word Passed through the gloomy sky; The troubled billows knew their Lord, And slumber settled on the deep, And silence on the blast; They sank, as flowers that fold to sleep O Thou! that in its wildest hour Thou that didst bow the billows' pride Oh, speak to passion's raging tide, THERE IS NO DEATH. THERE is no death! The stars go down There is no death! The dust we tread Shall change beneath the summer showers To golden grain, or mellow fruit, Or rainbow-tinted flowers. The granite rocks disorganize To feed the hungry moss they bear, The leaves drink daily life From out the viewless air. There is no death! The leaves may fall, The flowers may fall and pass away; They only wait through wintry hours The coming of the May. There is no death! An angel form Walks o'er the earth with silent tread, He bears our best-loved things away; And then we call them "dead." He leaves our hearts all desolate; He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers; Transported into bliss, they now Adorn immortal bowers. The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones Make glad these scenes of sin and strife, Sings now an everlasting song Amid the tree of life. And when he sees a smile too bright He bears it to that world of light, Born unto that undying life, They leave us but to come again; And ever near us, though unseen, Is life-there are no dead! Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. SCANDAL. A WOMAN to the holy father went, |