Now, is it fair that I who stand Taller than Dolly by a hand, (I'll not believe, howe'er 'tis told, That Cousin Doll is ten years old!) And just because I'm only seven, Should be so teazed, yes, almost driven, Soon as I've supped my milk and bread, To that old drowsy, frowsy bed?
I've lain between the dusky posts, And shivered when I thought of ghosts; Or else have grown so mad, you know, To hear those laughing romps below, While there I yawned and stretched (poor me!) With one dim lamp for company. I've longed for courage, just to dare Dress softly—then trip down the stair, And in the parlor pop my head With "No, I will not stay a-bed!"
I'll do it yet, all quick and bold, No matter how our Bet may scold, For oh! I'm sure it can't be right To keep me here each dismal night, Half scared by shadows grimly tall That dance along the cheerless wall Or by the wind, with fingers chill, Shaking the worn-out window sill— One might as well be sick, or dead, As sent, by eight o'clock, to bed!
[THERE IS NO DEATH.]
LORD LYTTON.
There is no death! The stars go down To rise upon some fairer shore; And bright in Heaven's jeweled crown They shine forevermore.
There is no death! The dust we tread Shall change beneath the summer showers To golden grain or mellowed fruit, Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
The granite rocks disorganize, And feed the hungry moss they bear; The forest leaves drink daily life, From out the viewless air.
There is no death! The leaves may fall, And flowers may fade and pass away; They only wait through wintry hours, The coming of the May.
There is no death! An angel form Walks o'er the earth with silent tread; He bears our best loved things away; And then we call them "dead."
He leaves our hearts all desolate, He plucks our fairest, sweetest, flowers; Transplanted into bliss, they now Adorn immortal bowers.
The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones, Made glad these scenes of sin and strife, Sing now an everlasting song, Around the tree of life.
Where'er he sees a smile too bright, Or heart too pure for taint and vice, He bears it to that world of light, To dwell in Paradise.
Born unto that undying life, They leave us but to come again; With joy we welcome them the same— Except their sin and pain.
And ever near us, though unseen, The dear immortal spirits tread; For all the boundless universe Is life—there are no dead.