No More Learning

")_

[Bk. III. iv. , March, 1842. ]


Ye weepers, the Mourner o'er mourners behold!
Ye wounded, come hither--the Healer enfold!
Ye gloomy ones, brighten 'neath smiles quelling care--
Or pass--for _this_ Comfort is found ev'rywhere.

[Footnote 1: Music by Gounod. ]





DEATH, IN LIFE.

_("Ceux-ci partent. ")_

[Bk. III. v. , February, 1843. ]


We pass--these sleep
Beneath the shade where deep-leaved boughs
Bend o'er the furrows the Great Reaper ploughs,
And gentle summer winds in many sweep
Whirl in eddying waves
The dead leaves o'er the graves.
And the living sigh:
Forgotten ones, so soon your memories die.
Ye never more may list the wild bird's song,
Or mingle in the crowded city-throng.
Ye must ever dwell in gloom,
'Mid the silence of the tomb.

And the dead reply:
God giveth us His life. Ye die,
Your barren lives are tilled with tears,
For glory, ye are clad with fears.
Oh, living ones! oh, earthly shades!
We live; your beauty clouds and fades.





THE DYING CHILD TO ITS MOTHER.

_("Oh! vous aurez trop dit. ")_

[Bk. III. xiv. , April, 1843. ]


Ah, you said too often to your angel
There are other angels in the sky--
There, where nothing changes, nothing suffers,
Sweet it were to enter in on high.