It whispers of the "long ago;"
Its love, its loss, its aching woe,
And buried sorrows stir; And tears like those we shed of old
Roll down our cheeks as we behold
Our faded lavender.
ANONYMOUS.
TO THE HAPPY DEAD PEOPLE.
What of the darkness? Is it very fair?
Are there great calms? and find we silence there?
Like soft-shut lilies, all your faces glow
With some strange peace our faces never know,
With some strange faith our faces never dare,—
Dwells it in Darkness? Do you find it there?
Is it a Bosom where tired heads may lie?
Is it a Mouth to kiss our weeping dry?
Is it a Hand to still the pulse's leap?
Is it a Voice that holds the runes of sleep?
Day shows us not such comfort anywhere—
Dwells it in Darkness? Do ye find it there?
Out of the Day's deceiving light we call—
Day that shows man so great, and God so small,
That hides the stars, and magnifies the grass—
O is the Darkness too a lying glass!
Or undistracted, do you find truth there?
What of the Darkness? Is it very fair?
RICHARD LE GALLIENNE.
God spake three times and saved Van Elsen's soul;
He spake by sickness first and made him whole;
Van Elsen heard him not, Or soon forgot.