THE DEATH OF A GENTLE MAIDEN.

'Now is done thy long day's work; Fold thy palms across thy breast, Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest. Let them rave! Shadows of the silver birk Sweep the green that folds thy grave, Let them rave!'

'Twas Sabbath eve: on couch of rose-leaves lying, With all her undimmed loveliness around her, Silent, yet fast, a radiant One was dying; Fading most like the flowery wreaths that bound her With fragrance, vainly wasted. There had been A fitful dirge upon the cool air borne, That spake of parting. Sadly sweet was seen A hectic bloom upon the cheek of morn, That told of tears to be ere day was done. Dark pall-like clouds swept by till set of sun, Then folded their broad pinions, and reclined In sullen grandeur o'er the distant West, Like spectral forms in slumber. Every wind Had wailed itself to stillness, and a rest Voiceless and deep stole down upon the world. The Storm-fiend slowly turned his sombre car, With drooping wing, and lurid banner furled, Toward his own rugged North, while from afar There came a sudden gleam, a golden ray, A strange, rich light, as from a young moon's birth, And shone o'er One, there passing fast away From the soft sky, and green, rejoicing earth! Many a presence, dim and fair, Pale gleaming shapes of things, divine and rare, With tearful eyes and broken sounds of weeping, Beside that couch a mournful watch were keeping In that hushed eve. Gay Zephyr pensive stood, With plumes enfolded like a stricken flower's; And Echo from her cave in dark wild wood Held whisperings faint with groups of gentle hours, Making the silence yet more sad and still; And glowing sighs that dwell in rustling grass, And guardian spirits of each singing rill, Murmurs from vine-clad vale and sunny hill, Odors that from the rose's deep heart pass, When kissed by breeze of even, gathered there, Where that clear radiance quivered on the air, Melting to farewell showers. And there seemed A gush of music, dying far away, Soft, exquisite, and low, like that is dreamed By one who slumbereth at the close of day On Ocean's golden wave. A liquid tone, Like fall of distant waters, deep and lone, A silvery strain of many voices blending, Fell on my soul; and, thrilling cadence sending Far thro' the coming night, did float along, Profoundly sorrowful, this brief, wild parting song: Fare thee well! We have heard the solemn chime, Pealing forth the flight of Time. Sternly tolls its passing bell For thy latest funeral knell. From Earth's griefs, unquiet fears, Mournful memories, lingering tears, Mortal ill, and mortal wo, Thou art soon about to go! Fare thee well! Brightness marked thy pathway here; Stars, and skies, far, blue, and clear, Gorgeous clouds and silvery haze Floating in the streaming rays; Love, and hope, and joyous mirth, Such as in young hearts have birth; Soon will be a lasting close! Come not breathings of repose? Fare thee well! Fades the thronging dream of life Through the mist of mortal strife; Rends the veil that shrouds the real From the vast and lone ideal; Spectres wild, and quaint, and strange, Flitting gleam in hurried change O'er the Future's magic glass; They are passing—Thou wilt pass! Fare thee well! Paler grows thy lustrous eye, As the light of sunset sky, Death-damps chill are on thy brow, White and cold as moon-lit snow. As a bird with wounded wing, Now thy heart is fluttering; Soon 't will rest, to beat no more— Pang and thrill alike be o'er! Fare thee well! In the shadowy dome of dreams Mournful light of Memory streams O'er the voiceless forms and still That the busy Past did fill. Far from wreck of wo and weeping, They in stormless peace are sleeping; There thy sisters long have gone, Thither thou wilt soon be flown— Fare thee well! Music that ends not in tears, Love that knows no boding fears, Tones that falter not in sighs, Hearts in which no sorrow lies, Flowers, unfading, sweet, and fair, Sister! all await thee there! We shall miss thee; but away! Wearied one, no longer stay! Fare thee well! 'T was gone! That radiant train melted away Like last love-whispers of the broken-hearted; And with the purple gleam of closing day The gentle Spirit of the Month departed!