358 MORE POT-POURRI 



times is as great an injustice towards the author as 

 looking at pictures, no matter how beautiful, in the dark. 



June Vdth. Sad news has come from England to-day 

 of the death of Sir Edward Burne-Jones. What a loss . 



The following very simple little poem by Byron not 

 much known, I think is not modern in feeling, but 

 fits singularly, for those who believe in spirit-land, the 

 death of a man like Burne-Jones : 



Bright be the place of thy soul ! 



No lovelier spirit than thine 

 E'er burst from its mortal control 



In the orbs of the blessed to shine. 



On earth thou wert all but divine, 



As thy soul shall immortally be ; 

 And our sorrow shall cease to repine 



When we know that thy God is with thee. 



Light be the turf of thy tomb ! 



May its verdure like emeralds be ! 

 There should not be the shadow of gloom 



In aught that reminds us of thee. 



Young flowers and an evergreen tree 



May spring from the spot of thy rest ; 

 But no Cypress nor Yew let us see, 



For why should we mourn for the blest ? 



Those who do not believe in spirit-land in any think- 

 able form and I fancy they are many more than is gener- 

 ally supposed when brought face to face with death, 

 mourn not for the peace and rest of those that are gone, 

 but for themselves their own personal grief and loss and 

 misery and feel a kind of humiliation that what they 

 themselves prized most, or the person who loved them 

 most, is gone from them. Such grief, like all our other 

 selfishness, should be fought and controlled as much as 

 we have strength for. The old notion of those who 

 prayed against sudden death was of a death unprepared, 



