She taketh on her all our grief; Even fabled Lethe hath no rest, No solace for her troubled breast, "Childhood and youth are vain," she saith, And yet," she saith, "this thing is sureThere is no life but shall endure, And death is only birth. "From death or birth no powers defend, And thus from grade to grade we tend, By resurrections without end, Unto some final peace. But distant is that peace," she saith; Yet eagerly awaiteth Death, Expecting her release. "Oh Rest," she saith, "that will not come, Not even when our lips are dumb, Not even when our limbs are numb, Thou wear'st a treach'rous mien." But still she gives the shadow place- Ye must not draw aside her veil; Ye must not see her die. But, hark! from out the stillness rise Low-murmured myths and prophecies, And chants that tremble to the skiesMiserere Domine ! They, trembling, lose themselves in rest, Soothing the anguish of her breastMiserere Domine ! STODDARD. THE SEA. [THE LOVER.] You stooped and picked a wreathed shell Beside the shining sea "This little shell, when I am gone, I kissed your hands, upon the sands, I hold the shell against my ear, I pace the sands, and wring my hands, ON THE PIER. Down at the end of the long, dark street, Years, years ago, I sat with my sweetheart on the pier, The moon was climbing the sky that night, We kissed in its light, and swore to be true— Once more I walk in the dark old street, But I sit no more on the desolate pier, THE SKY IS THICK UPON THE SEA. THE sky is thick upon the sea, The cranes are flying to the South; Its barren shores are long and dark, But better these than this gray sea, |