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When his glad mother on him stole
GONE, gone from us! and shall we see O, thoughts were brooding in those eyes,
Those sibyl-leaves of destiny,
Those calm eyes, nevermore?
That would have soared like strong
Those deep, dark eyes so warm and Far, far into the skies,
Wherein the fortunes of the man
Gladding the earth with song,
Had he but tarried with us long!
The stars of those two gentle eyes Will shine no more on earth;
Quenched are the hopes that had their
As we watched them slowly rise,
How peacefully they rest,
Upon his little breast,
Those small, white hands that ne'er were
But ever sported with his mother's hair, Or the plain cross that on her breast she wore!
And she would read them o'er and o'er, Her heart no more will beat
Pondering, as she sate,
And tears would slide from out her eye,
To feel the touch of that soft palm,
How quiet are the hands
That wove those pleasant bands!
The tongue that scarce had learned to Alas! too deep, too deep
An entrance to a mother's heart
By that dear talisman, a mother's name,
Fluttering with half-fledged words,
That more than words expressed,
Is this his slumber!
The years ere he will wake again.
As the airy gossamere,
Knitting all things to its thrall
“To the shore With a perfect love of all :
Follow ! O, follow ! O stern word - Nevermore !
To be at rest forevermore !
Look how the gray old Ocean With dreamy eyes watching the ripples From the depth of his heart rejoices, play,
Heaving with a gentle motion,
List how he sings in an undertone,
Chiming with our melody; He did but Hoat a little way,
And all sweet sounds of earth and air And, putting to the shore
Melt into one low voice alone, While yet ’t was early day,
That murmurs over the weary sea, Went calmly on his way,
And seems to sing from everywhere, To dwell with us no more !
“ Here mayst thou harbor peacefully, No jarring did he feel,
Here mayst thou rest from the aching No grating on his vessel's keel; A strip of silver sand
Turn thy curved prow ashore, Mingled the waters with the land And in our green isle rest forevermore! Where he was seen no more :
Forevermore !” O stern word - Nevermore !
And Echo half wakes in the wooded hill,
And, to her heart so calm and deep, Full short his journey was; no dust Murmurs over in her sleep, Of earth unto his sandals clave; Doubtfully pausing and murmuring still, The weary weight that old men must, “ Evermore! He bore not to the grave.
Thus, on Life's weary sea, He seemed cherub who had lost his
Heareth the marinere way
Voices sweet, from far and near, And wandered hither, so his stay
Ever singing low and clear, With us was short, and 't was most meet
Ever singing longingly.
Is it not better here to be,
In the dreary night to see
Nothing but the blood-red moon
Or, in the loneliness of day,
To see the still seals only
Solemnly lift their faces gray,
Is it not better than to hear
A cold and lonely grave,
Lean óver the side and see The low west-wind creeps panting up The leaden eve of the sidelong shark the shore
Upturned patiently, To be at rest among the flowers ;
Ever waiting there for thee : Full of rest, the green moss lifts, Look down and see those shapeless forms, As the dark waves of the sea
Which ever keep their dreamless sleep Draw in and out of rocky rifts,
Far down within the gloomy deel', Calling solennly to thee
And only stir themselves in storms, With voices deep and hollow,
Rising like islands from beneath,