Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,

Except that it is gone

Are ignorant of its Concern

As if it were not born.


Through all their former Places, we

Like Individuals go

Who something lost, the...

Poet:

1 PASTOR, thou art from us taken

      In the glory of thy years,

  As the oak, by tempests shaken,

      Falls ere time its verdure sears.


2 Pale and cold we see thee lying

      In God's temple, once so...

Poet:

Death sets a Thing significant

The Eye had hurried by

Except a perished Creature

Entreat us tenderly


To ponder little Workmanships

In Crayon, or in Wool,

With "This was last Her fingers did" —
...

Poet:

Death warrants are supposed to be

An enginery of equity

A merciful mistake

A pencil in an Idol's Hand

A Devotee has oft consigned

To Crucifix or Block

Poet:

Death's Waylaying not the sharpest

Of the thefts of Time —

There Marauds a sorer Robber,

Silence — is his name —

No Assault, nor any Menace

Doth betoken him.

But from Life's consummate Cluster —
...

Poet:



No more of Zephyr's airy robe I'll sing,

Or balmy odours dropping from his wing,

Or how his spicy breath revives the lands,

And curls the waves which roll o'er crystal sands.

No more I'll paint the glowing hemisphere...

Poet:



Melpomene, now strike a mournful string,

Montgomery's fate assisting me to sing!

Thou saw him fall upon the hostile plain

Yet ting'd with blood that gush'd from Moncalm's veins,

Where gallant Wolfe for conquest gave...

Poet:

It came at last but prompter Death

Had occupied the House —

His pallid Furniture arranged

And his metallic Peace —


Oh faithful Frost that kept the Date

Had Love as punctual been

Delight had...

Poet:

It was not Death, for I stood up,

And all the Dead, lie down —

It was not Night, for all the Bells

Put out their Tongues, for Noon.


It was not Frost, for on my Flesh

I felt Siroccos — crawl —

Nor...

Poet:

Let down the Bars, Oh Death —

The tired Flocks come in

Whose bleating ceases to repeat

Whose wandering is done —


Thine is the stillest night

Thine the securest Fold

Too near Thou art for seeking Thee...

Poet: