mean, and end to all things—­God.  The dead have all the glory of the world.  Why will we live and not be glorious?  We never can be deathless till we die.  It is the dead win battles.  And the breath Of those who through the world drive like a wedge, Tearing earth’s empires up, nears Death so close It dims his well-worn scythe.  But no! the brave Die never.  Being deathless, they but change Their country’s arms for more—­their country’s heart.  Give then the dead their due:  it is they who saved us.  The rapid and the deep—­the fall, the gulph, Have likenesses in feeling and in life.  And life, so varied, hath more loveliness In one day than a creeping century Of sameness.  But youth loves and lives on change, Till the soul sighs for sameness; which at last Becomes variety, and takes its place.  Yet some will last to die out, thought by thought, And power by power, and limb of mind by limb, Like lamps upon a gay device of glass, Till all of soul that’s left be dry and dark; Till even the burden of some ninety years Hath crashed into them like a rock; shattered Their system as if ninety suns had rushed To ruin earth—­or heaven had rained its stars; Till they become like scrolls, unreadable, Through dust and mold.  Can they be cleaned and read?  Do human spirits wax and wane like moons?

Lucifer—­The eye dims, and the heart gets old and slow; The lithe limbs stiffen, and the sun-hued locks Thin themselves off, or whitely wither; still, Ages not spirit, even in one point, Immeasurably small; from orb to orb, Rising in radiance ever like the sun Shining upon the thousand lands of earth.

     THE PASSING-BELL

     Clara—­True prophet mayst thou be.  But list:  that sound
     The passing-bell the spirit should solemnize;
     For, while on its emancipate path, the soul
     Still waves its upward wings, and we still hear
     The warning sound, it is known, we well may pray.

     Festus—­But pray for whom?

     Clara—­It means not.  Pray for all. 
     Pray for the good man’s soul: 

     He is leaving earth for heaven,
     And it soothes us to feel that the best
     May be forgiven.

Festus—­Pray for the sinful soul:  It fleeth, we know not where; But wherever it be let us hope; For God is there.

Clara—­Pray for the rich man’s soul:  Not all be unjust, nor vain; The wise he consoled; and he saved The poor from pain.

Festus—­Pray for the poor man’s soul:  The death of this life of ours He hath shook from his feet; he is one Of the heavenly powers.

     Pray for the old man’s soul: 
     He hath labored long; through life
     It was battle or march.  He hath ceased,
     Serene, from strife.