ROBERT BROWNING. By land and sea 'twas flashed to every shore, World-wide the grief for Robert Browning dead! Dead! after more than threescore years and ten Gathered like ripened corn or sheaf of wheat. No loss of vigor, all undimmed the thought, With gems that are imperishable fraught; Since Shakespeare's whose so many-hued and terse? Translated now into the higher sphere, Weep not for him, O ye, who loved him best, United there to her he held most dear, Soul of his soul, "and with God be the rest!"* *From "Prospice": "Then a light, then thy breast O thou soul of my soul, I shall clasp thee again, LINES WRITTEN AFTER READING "SURSUM CORDA," THE LAST POEM OF THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS. Oct. 14, 1892. Whence came the peace? In truth thou knowest now! A peace immense that flooded all thy soul When "Sursum Corda" through the church did roll, Asperges me, and make as white as snow Asperges me, a voice began to sing, And God to thy sad soul his peace did bring. |