previous next


The Friend's burial.

my thoughts are all in yonder town,
     Where, wept by many tears,
To-day my mother's friend lays down
     The burden of her years.

True as in life, no poor disguise
     Of death with her is seen,
And on her simple casket lies
     No wreath of bloom and green.

Oh, not for her the florist's art,
     The mocking weeds of woe;
Dear memories in each mourner's heart
     Like heaven's white lilies blow.

And all about the softening air
     Of new-born sweetness tells,
And the ungathered May-flowers wear
     The tints of ocean shells.

The old, assuring miracle
     Is fresh as heretofore;
And earth takes up its parable
     Of life from death once more.

Here organ-swell and church-bell toll
     Methinks but discord were;
The prayerful silence of the soul
     Is best befitting her.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: