They stood, and gazed at her who never more Should look on them. " with her?' Why die we not They said; Without her, life is bitterness.' Now came the funeral-day; the simple folk Of all that pastoral region gathered round Lay her away to rest within the ground. Yea, lay her down whose pure and innocent life Was spotless as these snows; for she was reared In love, and passed in love life's pleasant spring, And all that now our tenderest love can do Is to give burial to her lifeless limbs.' They paused. A thousand slender voices round, 309 Like currents journeying through the windless deep. Seek'st thou, in living lays, To limn the beauty of the earth and sky? Before thine inner gaze Let all that beauty in clear vision lie; 40 Look on it with exceeding love, and write The words inspired by wonder and delight. Of tempests wouldst thou sing, Or tell of battles — make thyself a part Of the great tumult; cling To the tossed wreck with terror in thy heart; Scale, with the assaulting host, the rampart's height, And strike and struggle in the thickest fight. MY AUTUMN WALK ON woodlands ruddy with autumn I look on the beauty round me, 1864. For the wind that sweeps the meadows Blows out of the far Southwest, Where our gallant men are fighting, And the gallant dead are at rest. The golden-rod is leaning, And the purple aster waves Full fast the leaves are dropping Before that wandering breath; As fast, on the field of battle, Our brethren fall in death. Beautiful over my pathway The forest spoils are shed; They are spotting the grassy hillocks Beautiful is the death-sleep But who shall comfort the living, The light of whose homes is gone: The bride that, early widowed, Lives broken-hearted on; The matron whose sons are lying In graves on a distant shore; I look on the peaceful dwellings 20 30 |