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THE MISTAKE. 



SCENE A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. TIME EVENING. 

 STRANGER AND SEXTON. 



STRANGER. 



'Tis well : I thank thee, friend. Now go thy way. 

 My brow is fevered, and this cool, soft air 

 Hath balm and healing and a voice, beside, 

 Akin to that mild welcome which, to those 

 Poor in the world's false treasures, is most rare 

 A true friend's greeting. I accept the sign, 

 Go go old man : the grave is there, you say ? 



SEXTON. 



Yes, Sir ; the nearest of those two which lie 

 Beneath the shadow of the dark old elm. 

 (Aside.) One of the two I mean, but I'll be hanged 

 If I know which. I had the rheumatiz, 

 And my son Tom did those two jobs for me. 

 But mum all dust's alike. (Exit.) 



STRANGER. 



Too long too long 



Away from thee ! Exiled in foreign lands, 

 And stayed and fettered by the tyrannous wave 

 Jealous of this sad comfort, ah, too long 

 I knew we should not meet again, and yet 

 I would not weep for thee, for well I knew 

 The brightness that was planted on thy brow 

 Grew there but for a season. Fare thee well, 

 Mary, fit sound for angel-tongues to breathe, 

 In greeting their new sister 'twas a dream 

 Of heaven, to worship thee, when each fond act 

 In thy behalf affection prompted, seemed 

 A duty pleasant in the eye of Heaven. 

 How happy art thou ! It is surely sweet 

 To leave behind us one fair memory 

 One grateful thought for some lone act of peace, 

 One tear to hallow, though we feel it not, 

 One prayer to soothe our death-hour, one true voice 

 To shame the busy slander of this world. 

 This to the many ; but to thee to thee 

 How many hearts that felt thy nobleness 

 Bewail the fate which gave the greedy tomb 

 So young a tenant ! Wherefore art thou here ? 

 Such sleep were grateful to the fall of years ; 

 And helpless dotage, and pale idiotcy, 

 Drivel and gibber to th* undreaded grave, 

 And those who love them mourn not, for they know 

 It is their rest and remedy ; and oft 

 The way-worn pilgrim of life's rougher paths 

 By the blest waters of eternity 

 Lays down his soul in joy : but what hadst thou 



