One on earth in silence wrought,
And his grave in silence sought;
But the younger, brighter form
Passed in battle and in storm.
So, whene'er I turn mine eye
Back upon the days gone by,
Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me,
Friends that closed their course before me.
But what binds us, friend to friend,
But that soul with soul can blend?
Soul-like were those hours of yore;
Let us walk in soul once more.
Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee,
Take, I give it willingly;
For, invisible to thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me.
From the German of LUDWIG UHLAND.
Translation of SARAH TAYLOR AUSTIN.
I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side On a bright May mornin' long ago,
When first you were my bride; The corn was springin' fresh and green.
And the lark sang loud and high— And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.
The place is little changed, Mary;
The day is bright as then; The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And the corn is green again; But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath, warm on my cheek; And I still keep list'nin' for the words
You nevermore will speak.
'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near— The church where we were wed, Mary;
I see the spire from here. But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest— For I've laid you, darling! down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.
I'm very lonely now, Mary.
For the poor make no new friends: But, oh, they love the better still
The few our Father sends! And you were all I had, Mary—
My blessin' and my pride! There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.