224 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. To spare worse pangs than ever madness proved, That friendly darkness of the mind was given, That thou might'st never mourn the fondly-loved, Nor know them lost on earth, till met in heaven. Yet lingering sadness in our hearts is found, "Tis still a pensive thought that all is past; "Farewell" is ever of a mournful sound, Part when we may, 'tis parting still, at last. We thought not on thy life, nor mourn'd thy death, But death hath now recall'd thy life once more, And the last pang, that drew thy parting breath, Seem'd to our hearts thy image to restore. We muse on all thou wert, and tears will start, When shall we see so good, so great again? But wherefore ponder not on what thou art, High o'er this brief abode of woe and pain? Oh! what a glorious change from dark to light, From double darkness of the soul and eye, When thy freed spirit spread its wings for flight! To thee 'twas death to live, 'tis life to die.
