"There must be pleasure in dying, sweet,
To make you so placid from head to feet!
"I would tell you, darling, if I were dead,
And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed,--
"I would say, though the angel of death had laid
His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid.
"You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes,
Which of all death's was the chiefest surprise,
"The very strangest and suddenest thing
Of all the surprises that dying must bring."
Ah, foolish world! O, most kind dead!
Though he told me, who will believe it was said?
Who will believe that he heard her say,
With a sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way:
"The utmost wonder is this,--I hear,
And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear;
"And am your angel, who was your bride,
And know that, though dead, I have never died."
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
PEACE.
There is the peace that cometh after sorrow,
Of hope surrendered, not of hope fulfilled;
A peace that looketh not upon to-morrow,
But calmly on a tempest that is stilled.
A peace which lives not now in joy's excesses,
Nor in the happy life of love secure,
But in the unerring strength the heart possesses,
Of conflicts won, while learning to endure.
A peace-there is, in sacrifice secluded,
A life subdued, from will and passion free;
'Tis not the peace that over Eden brooded,
But that which triumphed in Gethsemane.
ANONYMOUS.
FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.
When the hours of day are numbered,
And the voices of the night
Wake the better soul that slumbered
To a holy, calm delight,--
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;
Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door,--
The beloved ones, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more:
He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!
They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!
And with them the being beauteous
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.
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