FORGOTTEN.

In this dim shadow, where

She found the quiet which all tired hearts crave,
Now, without grief or care,

The wild bees murmur, and the blossoms wave,
And the forgetful air

Blows heedlessly across her grassy grave.

Yet, when she lived on earth,

She loved this leafy dell, and knew by name
All things of sylvan birth;

Squirrel and bird chirped welcome, when she came ;
Yet now, in careless mirth,

They frisk, and build, and warble all the same.

From the great city near,
Wherein she toiled through life's incessant quest
For weary year on year,

Come the far voices of its deep unrest

To touch her dead, deaf ear,

And surge unechoed o'er her pulseless breast.

The hearts which clung to her

Have sought out other shrines, as all hearts must, When Time, the comforter,

Has worn their grief out, and replaced their trust; Not even neglect can stir

This little handful of forgotten dust.

Grass waves, and insects hum,

And then the snow blows bitterly across;

Strange footsteps go and come,

Breaking the dew-drops on the starry moss;
She lieth, still and dumb,

Counting no longer either gain or loss.

Ah, well, 'tis better so;

Let the dust deepen as the years increase;

Of her who sleeps below

Let the name perish, and the memory cease,
Since she has come to know

That which through life she vainly prayed for,-Peace!

GOING TO SLEEP.

The light is fading down the sky,
The shadows grow and multiply;

I hear the thrushes' evening song:
But I have borne with toil and wrong
So long, so long!

Dim dreams my drowsy senses drown,—
So, darling, kiss my eyelids down!

My life's brief spring went wasted by,

My summer ended fruitlessly;

I learned to hunger, strive and wait:
I found you, love,-O happy fate !—
So late, so late!

Now all my fields are turning brown,—
So, darling, kiss my eyelids down!

O blessed sleep! O perfect rest!
Thus pillowed on your faithful breast,
Nor life nor death is wholly drear,
O tender heart, since you are here,-
So dear, so dear!

Sweet love! my soul's sufficient crown!
Now, darling, kiss my eyelids down!

“She is dead!" they said to him; "come away; Kiss her and leave her,-thy love is clay!"

They smoothed her tresses of dark-brown hair;
On her forehead of stone they laid it fair;

Over her eyes that gazed too much
They drew the lids with a gentle touch;

With a tender touch they closed up well
The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell;

About her brows and beautiful face
They tied her veil and her marriage-lace,

And drew on her white feet her white-silk shoes,—
Which were the whitest no eye could choose,-

And over her bosom they crossed her hands. 'Come away!" they said; "God understands."

And there was silence, and nothing there
But silence, and scents of eglantere,

And jasmine, and roses and rosemary;
And they said, "As a lady should lie, lies she."

And they held their breath till they left the room, With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and gloom.

But he who loved her too well to dread
The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead,

He lit his lamp, and took the key
And turned it-alone again-he and she.

He and she; but she would not speak,

Though he kissed, in the old place, the quiet cheek.

He and she; yet she would not smile,
Though he called her the name she loved erewhile.

He and she; still she did not move

To any one passionate whisper of love.

Then he said: "Cold lips and breasts without breath,

Is there no voice, no language of death?

"Dumb to the ear and still to the sense,

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But to heart and to soul distinct, intense?

See, now; I will listen with soul, not ear;

What was the secret of dying, dear?

"Was it the infinite wonder of all

That you ever could let life's flower fall?

"Or was it a greater marvel to feel

The perfect calm o'er the agony steal?

"Was the miracle greater to find how deep Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep?