THE POET'S REQUIEM. 



PEACE ! exalted spirit ! 



To thy tomb so lowly ; 



Thou, in mansions holy, 

 Blessings dost inherit ; 



Earth, unkind and cold, 

 Joy and hope denied thee, 

 Thee doth silence hold 



Whom no kinsmen weep ; 



Yet, where thou dost sleep 

 Let me rest beside thee. 



What is life ? a fever ; 



Death ? a home of quiet, 



Where the shout of riot 

 Comes intruding never : 

 Little heedest thou, 

 Though a world deride thee ; 

 Heaven is round thee now ; 



I may shed a tear 



Slander's words to hear, 

 Oh ! to sleep beside thee ; 



Pure and generous nature, 



O'er deceit compliant 



Towering, as a giant 

 Of high heavenly stature : 



Gold with splendid lure 

 Of rich promise tried thee ; 

 How may fraud, secure 



That his foe is gone, 



Laugh thy tomb upon ; 

 Oh! to sleep beside thee! 



Radiant heir of glory ! 



Genius unrequited, 



Hope too early blighted, 

 Why was this thy story ? 



Why did cruel hands 

 From thy love divide thee ? 

 Lo ! to brighter lands 



Thou didst soar away 



From thy chains of clay ; 

 Oh! to sleep beside thee! 



In a world so weary 



Would my path were ended! 



For it lies extended 

 In perspective dreary, 



Through the heartless throng, 

 From which the grave doth hide thee ; 

 Gifted son of song ! 



Take a willing guest 



To thy bed of rest ; 

 Let me sleep beside thee ! H . F. C. 



