lines of one in whom emotion and truth were the only inspiration:--



I.

As leaves left darkling in the flush of day,
When glints the glad sun checkering o'er the tree,
I see the green earth brightening in the ray,
Which only casts a shadow upon me!


II.

What are the beams, the flowers, the glory, all
Life's glow and gloss, the music and the bloom,
When every sun but speeds the Eternal Pall,
And Time is Death that dallies with the Tomb?


III.

And yet--oh yet, so young, so pure!--the while
Fresh laugh the rose-hues round youth's morning sky,
That voice, those eyes, the deep love of that smile,
Are they not soul--_all_ soul--and _can_ they die?


IV.