Call them again, so cold and chill!
Dead? dead? Oh! how could they die?
Laughed they not, sang they not joyfully?
Were they not with us—and now are they gone?
Why have they left us, and where have they flown?
Spake they not oft of a deathless tie?
Are they not sleeping? Oh! where do they lie?
Here! not here! ’tis a fearful place—
Were they not gentle, with steps of grace?
Were they not glad as the birds in June?