With swift feet speeding noiselessly and fast,
As a ghost speeds, to join its kindred dead,
In the dark realms of that mysterious vast,
The shadow-peopled and eternal past.
Life’s current deathward flows—a rapid stream,
With clouds and shadows often overcast,
Yet lighted often by a sunny beam
Of happiness, like sweet thoughts in a gloomy dream.
Like the brown leaves, our lov’d ones drop away,
One after one, into the dark abyss