FROM K. P.

(H.I.H. Grand Prince Constantine Constantinovich.)

No! I can ne’er believe, no recollection

Of life—beyond the grave we’ll bear away;

That Death doth end our joy and our affliction,

And shed deep sleep on our forgotten day?

Can eyes, when opened there, forget their seeing?

Can ears their power of hearing lose for aye?

In grave’s dark night can memories of past being

Be by the ransomed spirit cast away?

Did Raphael there forget his great “Madonna,”

What time he woke to light in realms above?

Did Shakespeare ne’er recall his Hamlet’s honour?

His Requiem hath Mozart ceased to love?

It cannot be! Nay! all that’s good, that’s holy,

We’ll live again after this life’s good-bye;

And we shall not forget, but, without passion, lowly,

We’ll love again, merged in the Deity.

Thy soul entrancing lyre,

Thy songs of purity,

Have borne to us but notes of Good,

Peace, Hope, and Charity.

To please the fickle crowd,

False notes thou ne’er didst sing;

Nor to the passions of the mob

Thy sacred freedom fling.

Thou’st sung for fifty years,

Crowned with immortal bay,

A song to raise the soul of man

And cheer his upward way.

Oh, could these chords prolong

To us thy legacy,

With what unrivalled aims endowed

Would our true poets be!