Although with bowed and breaking heart,
With sable garb and silent tread,
We bear their senseless dust to rest,
And say that they are "dead."

They are not dead! they have but passed
Beyond the mists that blind us here
Into the new and larger life
Of that serener sphere.

They have but dropped their robe of clay
To put their shining raiment on;
They have not wandered far away--
They are not "lost" or "gone."

Though disenthralled and glorified,
They still are here and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
They never can forget.

And sometimes, when our hearts grow faint
Amid temptations fierce and deep,
Or when the wildly raging waves
Of grief or passion sweep,

We feel upon our fevered brow
Their gentle touch, their breath of balm;
Their arms enfold us, and our hearts
Grow comforted and calm.

And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear, immortal spirits tread;
For all the boundless universe
Is life--there are no dead.

JAMES L. M'CREERY.

1863.

GOING AND COMING.

Going--the great round Sun,
Dragging the captive Day
Over behind the frowning hill,
Over beyond the bay,--
Dying:
Coming--the dusky Night,
Silently stealing in,
Wrapping himself in the soft warm couch
Where the golden-haired Day hath been
Lying.

Going--the bright, blithe Spring;
Blossoms! how fast ye fall,
Shooting out of your starry sky
Into the darkness all
Blindly!
Coming--the mellow days:
Crimson and yellow leaves;
Languishing purple and amber fruits
Kissing the bearded sheaves
Kindly!

Going--our early friends;
Voices we loved are dumb;
Footsteps grow dim in the morning dew;
Fainter the echoes come
Ringing:
Coming to join our march,--
Shoulder to shoulder pressed,--
Gray-haired veterans strike their tents
For the far-off purple West--
Singing!

Going--this old, old life;
Beautiful world, farewell!
Forest and meadow! river and hill!
Ring ye a loving knell
O'er us!
Coming--a nobler life;
Coming--a better land;
Coming--a long, long, nightless day;
Coming--the grand, grand
Chorus!

EDWARD A. JENKS.

BLIND.

Laughing, the blind boys
Run 'round their college lawn,
Playing such games of buff
Over its dappled grass!

See the blind frolicsome
Girls in blue pinafores,
Turning their skipping ropes!

How full and rich a world
Theirs to inhabit i