THE DEATH-BED.
17
The buds swell into greenest wealth of leaves
Upon the great elm just without the door;
The robin chirps within the forest-trees,
The blue-bird whistles from the barren moor.
Upon the great elm just without the door;
The robin chirps within the forest-trees,
The blue-bird whistles from the barren moor.
The frog pipes shrilly in the lonesome swamp,
The sweet notes of the thrush break softly in;
And, like the blood-red banners of a camp,
The scarlet maples show their blossoming.
The sweet notes of the thrush break softly in;
And, like the blood-red banners of a camp,
The scarlet maples show their blossoming.
The wild arbutus blushes in the dell,—
The damp, cool dell, beneath the old pine-trees,—
A breath of subtlest fragrance in each cell,
Of summer's sweetness uttering prophecies.
The damp, cool dell, beneath the old pine-trees,—
A breath of subtlest fragrance in each cell,
Of summer's sweetness uttering prophecies.
The day declines, dissolves into the night,
All lush and moist with smell of growing leaves,
And over all the young moon sheds its light
Before it sinks behind the western trees.
All lush and moist with smell of growing leaves,
And over all the young moon sheds its light
Before it sinks behind the western trees.
THE DEATH-BED.
Faintly came her breathing
From her troubled breast;
Feebly on the pillows
Sank her head to rest.
Calmly closed her eyelids,
Passed her smile away,
As the morning vapors
Flee the light of day.
From her troubled breast;
Feebly on the pillows
Sank her head to rest.
Calmly closed her eyelids,
Passed her smile away,
As the morning vapors
Flee the light of day.
