And but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill, changeless brow, Where cold Obstruction's apathy Appalls the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; Yes, but for these and these alone,
Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant's power; So fair, so calm, so softly sealed, The first, last look by death revealed! Such is the aspect of this shore;
'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb, Expression's last receding ray,
A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of Feeling past away; Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth, Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth!
WHAT is the existence of man's life But open war, or slumbered strife? Where sickness to his sense presents The combat of the elements; And never feels a perfect peace,
Till Death's cold hand signs his release?
THE HUSBAND AND WIFE'S GRAVE. HUSBAND and wife! no converse now ye hold, As once ye did in your young days of love, On its alarms, its anxious hours, delays, Its silent meditations and glad hopes, Its fears, impatience, quiet sympathies ; Nor do ye speak of joy assured, and bliss Full, certain, and possessed. Domestic cares Call you not now together. Earnest talk On what your children may be moves you not. Ye lie in silence, and an awful silence; Not like to that in which ye rested once Most happy, silence eloquent, when heart With heart held speech, and your mysterious frames,
Harmonious, sensitive, at every beat Touched the soft notes of love.
Insensible, unheeding, folds you round, And darkness, as a stone, has sealed you in;
But, self-inspired, rise upward, searching out The Eternal Mind, the Father of all thought, Are they become mere tenants of a tomb?- Dwellers in darkness, who the illuminate realms Of uncreated light have visited, and lived?. Lived in the dreadful splendor of that throne Which One, with gentle hand the veil of flesh Lifting that hung 'twixt man and it, revealed In glory? throne before which even now Our souls, moved by prophetic power, bow down Rejoicing, yet at their own natures awed?- Souls that thee know by a mysterious sense, Thou awful unseen Presence, - are they quenched? Or burn they on, hid from our mortal eyes By that bright day which ends not; as the sun His robe of light flings round the glittering stars? And do our loves all perish with our frames? Do those that took their root and put forth buds, And then soft leaves unfolded in the warmth Of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty, Then fade and fall, like fair, unconscious flowers? Are thoughts and passions that to the tongue give speech,
And make it send forth winning harmonies, That to the cheek do give its living glow, And vision in the eye the soul intense With that for which there is no utterance, Are these the body's accidents, no more? To live in it, and when that dies go out Like the burnt taper's flame?
O listen, man! A voice within us speaks the startling word, "Man, thou shalt never die!" Celestial voices Hymn it around our souls; according harps, By angel fingers touched when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The song of our great immortality; Thick-clustering orbs, and this our fair domain, The tall, dark mountains and the deep-toned seas, Join in this solemn, universal song.
O listen, ye, our spirits! drink it in From all the air! 'Tis in the gentle moonlight; Is floating in day's setting glories; Night, Wrapped in her sable robe, with silent step Comes to our bed and breathes it in our ears; Night and the dawn, bright day and thoughtful
All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse, As one vast mystic instrument, are touched
By an unseen, living Hand, and conscious chords Quiver with joy in this great jubilee.
The dying hear it; and, as sounds of earth Grow dull and distant, wake their passing souls To mingle in this heavenly harmony.
Why is it that I linger round this tomb? What holds it? Dust that cumbered those I
They shook it off, and laid aside earth's robes, And put on those of light. They're gone to dwell In love, their God's and angels'! Mutual love, That bound them here, no longer needs a speech For full communion; nor sensations strong, Within the breast, their prison, strive in vain To be set free, and meet their kind in joy. Changed to celestials, thoughts that rise in each By natures new impart themselves, though silent. Each quickening sense, each throb of holy love, Affections sanctified, and the full glow Of being, which expand and gladden one, By union all mysterious, thrill and live In both immortal frames; sensation all, And thought, pervading, mingling sense and thought!
Ye paired, yet one! wrapt in a consciousness Twofold, yet single, this is love, this life! Why call we, then, the square-built monument, The upright column, and the low-laid slab Tokens of death, memorials of decay? Stand in this solemn, still assembly, man, And learn thy proper nature; for thou seest In these shaped stones and lettered tables figures Of life. Then be they to thy soul as those Which he who talked on Sinai's mount with God Brought to the old Judeans, types are these Of thine eternity.
I thank thee, Father, That at this simple grave on which the dawn Is breaking, emblem of that day which hath No close, thou kindly unto my dark mind Hast sent a sacred light, and that away From this green hillock, whither I had come In sorrow, thou art leading me in joy.
A GOOD that never satisfies the mind, A beauty fading like the April flowers,
A sweet with floods of gall that runs combined, A pleasure passing ere in thought made ours,
An honor that more fickle is than wind,
A glory at opinion's frown that lowers, A treasury which bankrupt time devours,
A knowledge than grave ignorance more blind, A vain delight our equals to command,
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