ad,
I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin--
I draw near--
Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the
coffin."

Again, take that splendid dirge in memory of President Lincoln, majestic
in its music, spacious and grand in its treatment. It is too long for
quotation, but the opening lines, with their suggestive beauty, and the
Song to Death, may be instanced.

"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourned, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.

"O powerful western fallen star!
O shades of night--O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear'd--O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless--O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!

"In the dooryard fronting an old farmhouse near the whitewash'd
palings,
Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich
green,
With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong
I love.
With every leaf a miracle--and from this bush in the dooryard,
With delicate coloured blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich
green,
A sprig with its flower I break.

* * * * *

"Come lovely and soothing death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later delicate death.

"Prais'd be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,
And for love, sweet love--but praise! praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.

"Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet,
Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all,
I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come
unfalteringly.

* * * * *

"The night in silence under many a star,
The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,
And the soul-turning to thee, O vast and well-veil'd death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.

"Over the tre