LOVE NOW.

The sanctity that is about the dead

To make us love them more than late, when here,

Is not it well to find the living dear

With sanctity like this, ere they have fled?

The tender thoughts we nurture for a loss

Of mother, friend, or child, oh! it were wise

To spend this glory on the earnest eyes,

The longing heart, that feel life's present cross.

Give also mercy to the living here

Whose keen-strung souls will quiver at your touch;

The utmost reverence is not too much

For eyes that weep, although the lips may sneer.