flowers

reign.

Far in thy realm withdrawn Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom,

And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb.

Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground,

And last, Man's Life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound.

Thou hast my better years, Thou hast my earlier friends-the good-the kind,

Yielded to thee with tearsThe venerable form the exalted

mind.

Full many a mighty name

All shall come back, each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall evil die,

And sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign.

And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung,

And her, who, still and cold, Fills the next grave-the beautiful and young.

THANATOPSIS.

To him who in the love of Nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks

A various language; for his gayer hours

She has a voice of gladness, and a

smile

And eloquence of beauty, and she

glides

Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals

away

revered;

With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.

Thine for a space are theyYet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;

Thy gates shall yet give way, Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past!

All that of good and fair Has gone into thy womb from earliest time,

Shall then come forth to wear The glory and the beauty of its prime.

They have not perished-no! Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet,

Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat.

When thoughts

Of the last bitter hour come like a

Save

his own dashings-yet the dead are there:

And millions in those solitudes, since first

The flight of years began, have laid them down

In their last sleep; the dead reign there alone.

So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw

In silence from the living, and no friend

Take note of thy departure? All that breathe

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh

When thou art gone; the solemn brood of care

| Plod on, and each one as before will chase

His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave

Their mirth and their employments, and shall come,

And make their bed with thee. As

Are shining on the sad abodes of death,

The

innumerable caravan,

which

To that mysterious realm, where each

Through the still lapse of ages. All

that tread

moves

shall take

Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows

shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,

ant dreams.