When worthless grandeur fills the embellish'd urn,
No poignant grief attends the sable bier;
But when distinguish'd excellence we mourn,
Deep is the sorrow, genuine is the tear.

Stranger! shouldst thou approach this awful shrine,
The merits of the honour'd dead to seek;
The friend, the son, the christian, the divine,
Let those who knew him, those who lov'd him, speak.

O let them in some pause of anguish say,
What zeal inflam'd, what faith enlarg'd his breast!
How glad th' unfetter'd spirit wing'd its way

He that labors not by his own powers
But through the favor of the Almighty
Learns through his pious occupation
Love, humility, and patience;
Becomes pure in conscience,
And humble in heart and spirit.
Slothfulness, pomp, and gluttony
Avoid, and an evil conscience
Always accuses itself
Such a one obtains it in the case of everyman…?

I'm just talking all the time about love:
I try sometimes to talk of other things but I come back to love:
To my simple love for men and women, to my love for you, to my love for life:
Not caring at all what may be said of me because of it, coming back to love:
From whatever excursion into other fields, where other motives prevail, coming back to love:
Something in my heart driving me: something in you impelling me: something: something:
The casual day not satisfying me: the casual ambitions and rewards:

The love of my life came not
As love unto others is cast;
For mine was a secret wound—
But the wound grew a pearl, at last.

The divers may come and go,
The tides, they arise and fall;
The pearl in its shell lies sealed,
And the Deep Sea covers all.

Threescore and ten! the blushing spring
Has changed to autumn's brown;
The glossy head, for auburn curls,
Now wears a silver crown.

Fair day of life, so rich in good!
So seldom tempest-tossed!
How joy and love have filled the space
Between the bloom and frost!

And thou half round the globe hast trod;
Hast traced, from distant seas,
The northern crown and southern cross,
And felt the tropic breeze.

Thy children, held in honor, stand,
Known in the world's highways;
Thy husband, too,—and he, with theirs,

Sixty benignant years,
With all their joys and tears,
Have rolled by,
Since we, made one for life,
Were wedded, man and wife.
You and I.

The blest days we have seen,
The lands where we have been,
You and I,
Will linger on the brain,
Like some sweet song's refrain,
Till we die.

The friends our hearts have loved,
Whose love our hearts have proved,
Yours and mine,—
Some are our solace yet;
Some, like bright suns, now set,
Still they shine.

The years and ages pass,
Like shadows o'er the grass,—

Harper divine! with Love's elusive fingers
Touch the strings of this soft-breathing lyre
Till, vocal as the forest, choral as the sea,
They voice the everlasting song,
Fill all the air with ecstasy of wings,
And turn the harp to music.

My soul goes out to thee in adoration;
Thy love-revealing eyes
Have lifted me from dearth and desolation
To the blue bending skies.
Thou art my bliss, and all my thought of thee
Is love and beauty and sincerity.

I worship thee and blend the pale hues tender
In which the dawn is clad—
God's beauty—with the image of thy splendour
And know that He is glad.
My soul in loving thee is praising Him
More sweetly than the choral seraphim.

The footfall of the years brief in duration,
Shall swiftly, swiftly move;

Day by day, with startling fleetness,
Life speeds away;
Love, alone, can glean its sweetness,
Love while you may.
While the soul is strong and fearless,
While the eye is bright and tearless,
Ere the heart is chilled and cheerless—
Love while you may.

Life may pass, but love, undying,
Dreads no decay;
Even from the grave replying,
“Love while you may.”
Love's the fruit, as life's the flower;
Love is heaven's rarest dower;
Love gives love its quick'ning power—
Love while you may.

The little white bride is left alone
With him, her lord; the guests have gone;
The festal hall is dim.
No jesting now, nor answering mirth.
The hush of sleep falls on the earth
And leaves her here with him.

Why should there be, O little white bride,
When the world has left you by his side,
A tear to brim your eyes?
Some old love-face that comes again,
Some old love-moment sweet with pain
Of passionate memories?

Does your heart yearn back with last regret
For the maiden meads of mignonette
And the fairy-haunted wood,