Into the solemn wood,

Solemn and silent everywhere!

6

Nature with folded hands seemed

light.

The manifold, soft chimes,

Be a hero in the strife!

Death,

And, with his sickle keen,

He reaps the bearded grain at a

breath,

And the flowers that grow between.

"Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he;

"Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,

I will give them all back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,

He kissed their drooping leaves; It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

"My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"

The Reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child.

To the red planet Mars.

The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast,

light,

Transplanted by my care,

And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.'

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,

The flowers she most did love; She knew she should find them all again

In the fields of light above.

And calm, and self-possessed.

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

Oh, fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know erelong, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished

Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth, no more!
And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,

under us