Here we view a weary pilgrim, cradled in a dreamless sleep;
Human sounds no more shall reach her, for its spell is "long and deep!"
Gaze upon the marble features! Mark how peacefully they rest!
Anguished thought, and sorrow's heavings, all are parted from that breast!
Soon on mother earth reposing, this cold form shall calmly lie,
Till, by God's dread trump awakened, it shall mount to realms on high.
FOUR SONNETS TO THE FOUR SEASONS.
BY MARY SPENSER PEASE.
(See Plate.)