As Ocean rolls its billows to the shore,
The distant waves impelling those before;
As leaves luxuriant, which the woods supply,
In summer flourish, and in autumn die;
So generations pass: at Nature's call
They rise successive, and successive fall.

CXLIII.

SWEET is the scene when virtue dies,
When sinks a righteous soul to rest!
How mildly beam the closing eyes,
How gently heaves th' expiring breast!

So fades a summer-cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; So gently shuts the eye of day; So dies a wave along the shore.

Its duty done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heaven and earth combine to say,

"Sweet is the scene when virtue dies!"

ANOTHER year is swallowed by the sea

Of sumless waves!

Another year, thou past Eternity!

Hath rolled o'er new-made graves.

They open yet-to bid the living weep,
Where tears are vain;

While they, unswept into the ruthless deep,
Storm-tried and sad, remain.

Why are we spared? Surely to wear away,
By useful deeds,

Vile traces, left beneath the upbraiding spray,
Of empty shells and weeds.

But there are things which time devoureth not: Thoughts whose green youth

Flowers o'er the ashes of the unforgot;

And words, whose fruit is truth.

Are ye not imaged in the eternal sea,

Things of to-day?

Deeds which are harvest for eternity,

Ye cannot pass away!

CALL them from the dead

For our eyes to see;
Prophet-bards, whose awful word

Shook the earth, "Thus saith the Lord,"
And made the idols flee—

A glorious company!

Call them from the dead

For our eyes to see:

Sons of wisdom, song, and power,
Giving earth her richest dower,

And making nations free –

A glorious company!

Call them from the dead
For our eyes to see:

Forms of beauty, love, and grace,
"Sunshine in the shady place,"

That made it life to be

A blessed company!

Call them from the dead-
Vain the call will be;

But the hand of Death shall lay,
Like that of Christ, its healing clay
On eyes which then shall see
That glorious company!

CXLVI.

I STOOP

Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud.

It is but for a time: I press God's lamp
Close to my breast; its splendours soon or late
Will pierce the gloom: I shall emerge some day.

CXLVII.

ART thou not from everlasting to everlasting? O God! mine Holy One!

WE SHALL NOT DIE.

CXLVIII.

DEATH is the shadow of life; and as the tree
Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath,
So, in the light of great eternity,

Life eminent creates the shade of death ;
The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,
But Love shall reign for ever over all.

CXLIX.

THE cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
And, like an insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.

We are such stuff

As dreams are made of; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.