Songs of Farewell: Death

" Leaves and clustered fruits, and flowers eterne,
Eternal to the world, but not to me."— HOOD.

THE Spring will come again, dear friends,
The Swallow o'er the Sea ;
The bud will hang upon the bough,
The blossom on the tree;
And many a pleasant sound will rise to greet her on her way,
The voice of bird, and leaf, and stream, and warm winds in their play;
Ah ! sweet the airs that round her breathe ! and bountiful is she,
She bringeth all the things that fresh, and sweet, and hopeful be;
She scatters promise on the earth with open hand and free,
But not for me, my friends,
But not for me !

Summer will come again, dear friends,
Low murmurs of the Bee
Will rise through the long sunny day
Above the flowery lea ;
And deep the dreamy woods will own the slumbrous spell she weaves,
And send a greeting, mixed with sighs, through all their quivering leaves.
Oh, precious are her glowing gifts ! and plenteous is she,
She bringeth all the lovely things that bright and fragrant be;
She scatters fulness on the Earth with lavish hand and free,
But not for me, my friends,
But not for me !

Autumn will come again, dear friends,
His spirit-touch shall be
With gold upon the harvest-field,
With crimson on the tree;
He passeth o'er the silent woods, they wither at his breath,
Slow fading in a still decay, a change that is not Death.
Oh ! rich and liberal, and wise, and provident is he !
He taketh to his Garner-house the things that ripened be,
He gathereth his store from Earth, and silently —
And he will gather me, my friends,
He will gather me !