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438 POEMS.
For beyond life’s desert weary,
I car. see a heavenly spring.
Draw around, ye clouds, and cover,
Shroud me; stars! conceal your light;
Yet my home I can discover,
Clear the way lies in my sight.
M. R. W.
THE GRAVE.
[Probably transJated by Fredrika Bremer from the German.]
How dark and cold the grave is,
And terrible its rand!
It hides as deep the wave is,
An undiscovered land.
No sound its gateway knoweth;
The song of birds is still;
And only friendship streweth
The flowers o’er the hill.
And he who therein sleepeth
The widow’s sigh ne’er hears ;
F’en when the orphan weepeth,
The grave admits no tears.
Yet it in peace exceedeth
Each spot; ’tis truly fair ;
The road that homeward leadeth
Must ever enter there.
And from all storms defended,
Where storm and conflict cease,
The heart its throbbings ended,
At last obtaineth peace.
M.
R.
Ww.
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