Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/103

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Rosemary.
99
And life has done with tuneful closes,
  Now let the ashes sleep.
For us whose summer hymn is ending,
Its chorus with sweet echoes blending,
Shall still be on and upward tending,
  Till eyes no more can weep.

Another Spring its censers swinging,
Shall wake again both bloom and singing,
And wild brooks from their dumbness springing
  Go chattering down the hills.
What if the dust beside them sleeping,
Last year had laughter, life, and weeping?
Earth drops such memories from her keeping,
  To-day her whole heart fills.

Now withered leaves fall in the grasses,
While rain and wind sing funeral masses,
And like a veil the dank mist passes
  Across the bleak world's face.
This dreary time is fit for sorrow,
But love and hope good cheer can borrow,
And while we die, they wait the morrow
  Their sunshine to replace.