200 THE TWO GRAVES. 'Tis said that when life is ended here, Talk not of the light and the living green! It will yearn, in that strange bright world, to behold 'Tis a cruel creed, believe it not! Death to the good is a milder lot. They are here, they are here, that harmless pair, In the yellow sunshine and flowing air, In the light cloud-shadows, that slowly pass, In the sounds that rise from the murmuring grass. Of the brook that wets the rocks below. Till the day when their bodies shall leave the ground. THE NEW MOON. WHEN, as the gairish day is done, Few are the hearts too cold to feel The sight of that young crescent brings And childhood's purity and grace, The captive yields him to the dream 202 THE NEW MOON. Comes out upon the air; Most welcome to the lover's sight, That sweetest is the lovers' walk, And there do graver men behold And thoughts and wishes not of earth, Like that new light in heaven. THE GLADNESS OF NATURE. Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, The clouds are at play in the azure space, And their shadows at play on the bright green vale, And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. THOU blossom bright with autumn dew, Thou comest not when violets lean Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. Thou waitest late, and com'st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown, Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye I would that thus, when I shall see |