It's Such A Little Thing To Weep

189

It's such a little thing to weep—
So short a thing to sigh—
And yet—by Trades—the size of these
We men and women die!

Endow The Living—with The Tears

521

Endow the Living—with the Tears—
You squander on the Dead,
And They were Men and Women—now,
Around Your Fireside—

Instead of Passive Creatures,
Denied the Cherishing
Till They—the Cherishing deny—
With Death's Ethereal Scron—

There's Something Quieter Than Sleep

45

There's something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig upon its breast—
And will not tell its name.

Some touch it, and some kiss it—
Some chafe its idle hand—
It has a simple gravity
I do not understand!

I would not weep if I were they—
How rude in one to sob!
Might scare the quiet fairy
Back to her native wood!

While simple-hearted neighbors
Chat of the "Early dead"—
We—prone to periphrasis
Remark that Birds have fled!

We Don'T Cry—tim And I

196

We don't cry—Tim and I,
We are far too grand—
But we bolt the door tight
To prevent a friend—

Then we hide our brave face
Deep in our hand—
Not to cry—Tim and I—
We are far too grand—

Nor to dream—he and me—
Do we condescend—
We just shut our brown eye
To see to the end—

Tim—see Cottages—
But, Oh, so high!
Then—we shake—Tim and I—
And lest I—cry—

Tim—reads a little Hymn—
And we both pray—
Please, Sir, I and Tim—
Always lost the way!

We must die—by and by—
Clergymen say—
Tim—shall—if I—do—
I—too—if he—

How shall we arrange it—
Tim—was—so—shy?
Take us simultaneous—Lord—
I—"Tim"—and Me!