The monarch and other poems . melody;That melody one gentle voice Whose accents bade my heart rejoice But lo! what grief soon pierced my heartAnd sent its pang to every part When illness came, and Alice died, And wondering angels turned and sighed 81 And since that day, how vainly 1Have tried to solve lifes mystery,— To understand why buds that bloomShould, ere their fruitage, reach theirdoom; — Why childhood, fresh and fair and pureShould be the one for death to lure, While age is left to totter through Still other years, concealed from view. Lifes noon had passed, ere once againI wandered th
The monarch and other poems . melody;That melody one gentle voice Whose accents bade my heart rejoice But lo! what grief soon pierced my heartAnd sent its pang to every part When illness came, and Alice died, And wondering angels turned and sighed 81 And since that day, how vainly 1Have tried to solve lifes mystery,— To understand why buds that bloomShould, ere their fruitage, reach theirdoom; — Why childhood, fresh and fair and pureShould be the one for death to lure, While age is left to totter through Still other years, concealed from view. Lifes noon had passed, ere once againI wandered through that hallowed lane, And lo, how changed! — few signs it boreThat I had trod its path before. 82 I sought that humble cottage near, Which through my childhood was so dear, But found it not; where once it stoodWere tangled weeds and blackened wood. With saddened heart I turned to go,But spied, hard by, a headstone low, Whereat I paused, and through my tears,Read — Here lies Alice: aged ten years. 83 THE t length the mystic touch of SpringAwakes the slumbering forms ofearth, When Nature spreads her warming wing,And blesses all with glad rebirth. 84 Her breath infuses every breezeWith odors and perfumes divine, Drawn from the blossomed apple treesAnd every fragrant bud and vine. Now robins sing their sweetest song —And bobolinks and orioles,— Sweetest because suppressed so long It bursts from out their brimming souls Now comes the chirp of building birds; The noisy caw of watchful crows;While from the hill-sides browsing herds The distant cow-bells tinkle flows. 85 The blackbirds from the willows cry; The plover pipes in yonder bogs,And from the stagnant pool, hard by, Rise amorous murmurings of the frogs, Such mingled sweets and rhapsodiesSoothe every sense with anodynes; — In vain I strive, through languors comprehend Gods vast designs! 86 THE FINAL VOYAGE.
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