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One of the few, the immortal names,
On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake. Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days; None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.
Shrines to no code or creed confined, —
The Meccas of the mind.
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends
To my Cigar.
In learned doctors' spite;
And lap me in delight.
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting.''
Lives of great men all remind us
And, departing, leave behind us
* Life is short, and the art long.
Hippocrates, (Aphorism I.)
Still achieving, still pursuing,
The Light of Stars. Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.
It is not always May.
Maidenhood. Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!
The Goblet of Life.
But one dead lamb is there!
But has one vacant chair.
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
The Golden Legend.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
That banner in the sky.
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
And give her to the God of storms,
Urania. Yes, child of suffering, thou mayst well be sure, He who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor 1
Fatima. St. 3. e, O fire^ once he drew one long Mss my whole soul through 7 lips, as siyilight drinketh dew.
The Princess. Canto iv. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
V.* Canto 7.
, Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;