188 GEOEGE JOHN EOMANES issi- 



him unreserved to his friends, to those whom he 

 loved. 



' Upon that Christmas Eve 

 We saw thee pass away, 



We heard the music of thy parting breath ; 



We saw a light of angels in thy face 

 A beauty so ineffable, that Death 



Was changed into a minister of Grace : 



The mountains in their autumn hues, 

 Of mountain reds and mountain blues, 

 With heather and with highland bells, 

 Await thy step on hills and fells ; 

 The spongy peat and dewy moss 

 Eemember where we used to cross 

 Remember how they loved thy tread, 

 Make for thy steps their softest bed : 

 The murmuring streams are calling thee, 

 The woodlands sigh in every tree ; 

 Yet when I walk upon the shore, 

 The waves are whispering nevermore ! 



Mournfully, mournfully whispering, they, 

 Whispering, whispering every day, 

 Thy soul in their waters, thy breath in their spray, 

 Thy spirit still speaking in all that they say. 

 They knew thee well, those weedy rocks, 

 And now they rear their rugged blocks 

 When I pass by, 

 To ask me why 



They never feel thy tender hands ; 

 And all the yellow of the sands 

 Is spread to greet 

 Thy tireless feet, 

 Which loved to walk them when the tide was low. 



Now when I walk alone, 

 To hear the ocean moan, 

 The sea-birds circling round 

 Sweep almost to the ground, 

 And peep and pry above my head to know 



