THE SONG OF DEATH.

I. Silent and swift as the flight of Time, I’ve come from a far and shadowy clime; With brow serene and a cloudless eye, Like the star that shines in the midnight sky; I check the sigh, and I dry the tear; Mortals! why turn from my path in fear? II. The fair flower smiled on my tireless way, I paused to kiss it in summer’s day, That when the storm in its strength swept by It might not be torn from its covert nigh; I bear its hues on my shining wing, Its fragrance and light around me cling. III. I passed the brow that had learned to wear The crown of sorrow—the silver hair; Weary and faint with the woes of life, The tempest-breath and fever-strife, The old man welcomed the gentle friend Who bade the storm and the conflict end. IV. I looked where the fountains of gladness start, On the love of the pure and trusting heart; On the cheek like summer roses fair, And the changeful light of the waving hair; Earth had no cloud for her joyous eye, But I saw the shade in the future’s sky. V. I saw the depths of her spirit wrung, The music fled, and the harp unstrung; The love intense she had treasured there, Like fragrance shed on the desert air: I bore her to deathless love away; Oh! why do ye mourn for the young to-day? VI. I paused by the couch where the poet lay, Mid fancies bright on their sparing way; The tide of song in his heaving breast Flowed strong and free in its deep unrest; His soul was thirsting for things divine— I led him far to the sacred shrine. VII. The sage looked forth on the starry sky, With aspiring thoughts and visions high, He sought a gift and a lore sublime To raise the veil from the shores of Time, To pierce the clouds o’er the soul that lie; I bade him soar with a cherub’s eye. VIII. And now, neath my folded wing I bear A spotless soul like the lily fair; The babe on its mother’s bosom slept; Ere I bore it far, I paused and wept; ’Twas an angel strayed from its fairer home: Peace to the mourner!—I come! I come!