Death had laid aside his terror,
    And he found thee calm and mild,
  Lying in thy robes of whiteness,
    Like a pure and stainless child.

  Hardly had the mountain violet
    Spread its blossoms on the sod,
  Ere they laid the turf above thee,
    And thy spirit rose to God.

  Early wert thou taken, Mary! 
    And I know ’tis vain to weep—­
  Tears of mine can never wake thee
    From thy sad and silent sleep.

  O away! my thoughts are earthward! 
    Not asleep, my love, art thou! 
  Dwelling in the land of glory
    With the saints and angels now.

  Brighter, fairer far than living,
    With no trace of woe or pain,
  Robed in everlasting beauty,
    Shall I see thee once again,

  By the light that never fadeth,
    Underneath eternal skies,
  When the dawn of resurrection
    Breaks o’er deathless Paradise.

THE OLD CAMP

WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA

  I.

  There is a cloud before the sun,
    The wind is hushed and still,
  And silently the waters run
    Beneath the sombre hill. 
  The sky is dark in every place,
    As is the earth below: 
  Methinks it wore the self-same face
    Two thousand years ago.

  II.

  No light is on the ancient wall,
    No light upon the mound;
  The very trees, so thick and tall,
    Cast gloom, not shade, around. 
  So silent is the place and cold,
    So far from human ken,
  It hath a look that makes me old,
    And spectres time again.

  III.

  I listen, half in thought to hear
    The Roman trumpet blow—­
  I search for glint of helm and spear
    Amidst the forest bough: 
  And armour rings, and voices swell—­
    I hear the legion’s tramp,
  And mark the lonely sentinel
    Who guards the lonely camp.

  IV.

  Methinks I have no other home,
    No other hearth to find;
  For nothing save the thought of Rome
    Is stirring in my mind. 
  And all that I have heard or dreamed,
    And all I had forgot,
  Are rising up, as though they seemed
    The household of the spot.

  V.

  And all the names that Romans knew
    Seem just as known to me,
  As if I were a Roman too—­
    A Roman born and free: 
  And I could rise at Caesar’s name,
    As though it were a charm
  To draw sharp lightning from the tame,
    And brace the coward’s arm.

  VI.

  And yet, if yonder sky were blue,
    And earth were sunny gay,
  If nature wore the summer hue
    That decked her yesterday,
  The mound, the trench, the rampart’s space,
    Would move me nothing more
  Than many a sweet sequestred place
    That I have marked before.