Part 35

Willow Branch:

To sorrow's own sweet crown, With simple grace, The weeping-willow bends her branches down Just like a mother's arm, To shield from harm, The dead within their resting place.

Lily:

The angel flower of all the flowers: Its sister flowers, In all the bowers Worship the lily, for it brings, Wherever it blooms, On shrines or tombs, A dream surpassing earthly sense Of heaven's own stainless innocence.

Violet Leaves:

It is too late for violets, I only bring their leaves, I looked in vain for mignonettes To grace the crown grief weaves; For queenly May, upon her way, Robs half the bowers Of all their flowers, And leaves but leaves to June. Ah! beauty fades so soon; And the valley grows lonely in spite of the sun, For flowerets are fading fast, one by one. Leaves for a grave, leaves for a garland, Leaves for a little flower, gone to the far-land.

Forget-Me-Not:

"Forget-me-not!" The sad words strangely quiver On lips, like shadows falling on a river, Flowing away, By night, by day, Flowing away forever. The mountain whence the river springs Murmurs to it, "forget me not;" The little stream runs on and sings On to the sea, and every spot It passes by Breathes forth a sigh, "Forget me not!" "forget me not!"

A Garland:

I bring this for her mother; ah, who knows The lonely deeps within a mother's heart? Beneath the wildest wave of woe that flows Above, around her, when her children part, There is a sorrow, silent, dark, and lone; It sheds no tears, it never maketh moan. Whene'er a child dies from a mother's arms, A grave is dug within the mother's heart: She watches it alone; no words of art Can tell the story of her vigils there. This garland fading even while 'tis fair, It is a mother's memory of a grave, When God hath taken her whom heaven gave.

Sorrow:

Farewell! I go to crown the dead; Yet ye have crowned yourselves to-day, For they whose hearts so faithful love The lonely grave -- the very clay; They crown themselves with richer gems Than flash in royal diadems.

Hope

Thine eyes are dim: A mist hath gathered there; Around their rim Float many clouds of care, And there is sorrow every -- everywhere.

But there is God, Every -- everywhere; Beneath His rod Kneel thou adown in prayer.

For grief is God's own kiss Upon a soul. Look up! the sun of bliss Will shine where storm-clouds roll.

Yes, weeper, weep! 'Twill not be evermore; I know the darkest deep Hath e'en the brightest shore.

So tired! so tired! A cry of half despair; Look! at your side -- And see Who standeth there!

Your Father! Hush! A heart beats in His breast; Now rise and rush Into His arms -- and rest.

Farewells

They are so sad to say: no poem tells The agony of hearts that dwells In lone and last farewells.

They are like deaths: they bring a wintry chill To summer's roses, and to summer's rill; And yet we breathe them still.

For pure as altar-lights hearts pass away; Hearts! we said to them, "Stay with us! stay!" And they said, sighing as they said it, "Nay."

The sunniest days are shortest; darkness tells The starless story of the night that dwells In lone and last farewells.

Two faces meet here, there, or anywhere: Each wears the thoughts the other face may wear; Their hearts may break, breathing, "Farewell fore'er."

Song of the River

A river went singing adown to the sea, A-singing -- low -- singing -- And the dim rippling river said softly to me, "I'm bringing, a-bringing -- While floating along -- A beautiful song To the shores that are white where the waves are so weary, To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary. A song sweet and calm As the peacefulest psalm; And the shore that was sad Will be grateful and glad, And the weariest wave from its dreariest dream Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream; And the tempests shall cease And there shall be peace." From the fairest of fountains, And farthest of mountains, From the stillness of snow Came the stream in its flow.

Down the slopes where the rocks are gray, Thro' the vales where the flowers are fair -- Where the sunlight flashed -- where the shadows lay Like stories that cloud a face of care, The river ran on -- and on -- and on -- Day and night, and night and day; Going and going, and never gone, Longing to flow to the "far away", Staying and staying, and never still; Going and staying, as if one will Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea;" And another will whispered, "Stay with me:" And the river made answer, soft and low -- "I go and stay" -- "I stay and go."