Three Songs of Mourning

Nay, weep not, dearest, though the child be dead; 
He lives again in Heaven's unclouded life, 
With other angels that have early fled 
From these dark scenes of sorrow, sin, and strife. 
Nay, weep not, dearest, though thy yearning love 
Would fondly keep for earth its fairest flowers, 
And e'en deny to brighter realms above 
The few that deck this dreary world of ours: 
Though much it seems a wonder and a woe 
That one so loved should be so early lost, 
And hallowed tears may unforbidden flow 
To mourn the blossom that we cherished most, 
Yet all is well; God's good design I see, 
That where our treasure is, our hearts may be! 

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast.
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

  Peace; come away: the song of woe
    Is after all an earthly song:
    Peace; come away: we do him wrong
To sing so wildly: let us go.

Come; let us go: your cheeks are pale;
    But half my life I leave behind:
    Methinks my friend is richly shrined;
But I shall pass; my work will fail.

Yet in these ears, till hearing dies,
    One set slow bell will seem to toll
    The passing of the sweetest soul
That ever look'd with human eyes.

I hear it now, and o'er and o'er,
    Eternal greetings to the dead;
    And "Ave, Ave, Ave," said,
"Adieu, adieu" for evermore.