ON THE DEATH OF MRS. LYNN LINTON

Kind, wise, and true as truth's own heart,

A soul that here

Chose and held fast the better part

And cast out fear,

Has left us ere we dreamed of death

For life so strong,

Clear as the sundawn's light and breath,

And sweet as song.

We see no more what here awhile

Shed light on men:

Has Landor seen that brave bright smile

Alive again?

If death and life and love be one

And hope no lie

And night no stronger than the sun,

These cannot die.

The father-spirit whence her soul

Took strength, and gave

Back love, is perfect yet and whole,

As hope might crave.

His word is living light and fire:

And hers shall live

By grace of all good gifts the sire

Gave power to give.

The sire and daughter, twain and one

In quest and goal,

Stand face to face beyond the sun,

And soul to soul.

Not we, who loved them well, may dream

What joy sublime

Is theirs, if dawn through darkness gleam,

And life through time.

Time seems but here the mask of death,

That falls and shows

A void where hope may draw not breath:

Night only knows.

Love knows not: all that love may keep

Glad memory gives:

The spirit of the days that sleep

Still wakes and lives.

But not the spirit's self, though song

Would lend it speech,

May touch the goal that hope might long

In vain to reach.

How dear that high true heart, how sweet

Those keen kind eyes,

Love knows, who knows how fiery fleet

Is life that flies.

If life there be that flies not, fair

The life must be

That thrills her sovereign spirit there

And sets it free.