362 POEMS 
Dwells that freed spirit, now transformed 
and taught 
To move in orbits where the immortals are. 
Does she rejoice or mourn? Perchance from 
far 
Some earthly errand she but now has sought, 
By instantaneous ways among us brought, 
Ways to which night and distance yield no 
bar. 
Could we but reach and touch that wayward 
will 
On earth so hard to touch, would she be 
found 
Controlled or yet impetuous, free or bound, 
Tameless as ocean, or serene and still? 
If in her heart one eager impulse stirs, 
Could heaven itself calm that wild mood of 
hers? 
MEMORIAL ODE 
[Read before the Grand Army Posts of Boston, Mass., on Memo- 
rial Day, May 30, 1881, by Mr. George Riddle.] 
I. 
Joy to the three-hilled city !— for each year 
Heals something of the grief this day records ; 
Each year the plaintive lay 
Sounds yet more far away, 
