IN MEMORIAM.— CVI.

The time admits not flowers or leaves

To deck the banquet. Fiercely flies

The blast of North and East, and ice

Makes daggers at the sharpen'd eaves,

And bristles all the brakes and thorns

To yon hard crescent, as she hangs

Above the wood which grides and clangs

Its leafless ribs and iron horns

Together, in the drifts that pass,

To darken on the rolling brine

That breaks the coast. But fetch the wine,

Arrange the board and brim the glass;

Bring in great logs and let them lie,

To make a solid core of heat;

Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat

Of all things ev'n as he were by:

We keep the day with festal cheer,

With books and music. Surely we

Will drink to him whate'er he be,

And sing the songs he loved to hear.