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Teach him the song that no one living knows?
Again the Bird. I turned, and passed along;
But Time and Death, Eternity and Change, Talked with me ever, and the climbing song Rose in my hearing, beautiful and strange.
E had played for his lordship's levee, He had played for her ladyship's whim, Till the poor little head was heavy, And the poor little brain would swim.
And the face grew peaked and eerie,
And the large eyes strange and bright, And they said-too late-"He is weary! He shall rest for, at least, To-night!"
But at dawn, when the birds were waking,
'Twas a string of his violoncello,
And they heard him stir in his bed "Make room for a tired little fellow,
Kind God!" was the last that he said.
WOW steadfastly she'd worked at it! How lovingly had drest With all her would-be-mother's wit
That little rosy nest!
How longingly she'd hung on it !—
He came at last, the tiny guest,
"The dead hand clasped a letter."
HERE, in this leafy place,
Quiet he lies,
Cold, with his sightless face
'Tis but another dead; All you can say is said.
Carry his body hence,
Kings must have slaves;
Over men's graves:
What was the white you touched,
Paper his hand had clutched
Hardly the worst of us
Here could have smiled !-
Only the tremulous
Words of a child ;
Prattle, that has for stops
Look. She is sad to miss,
Good to mamma, and sweet.
Ah, if beside the dead
Slumbered the pain! Ah, if the hearts that bled Slept with the slain !
If the grief died ;—But no ;-