BEAUTY made glad the day, — and sadness glad;
So, without sorrow, to the grove we wandered
Where lie the loved ones in their myrtle bed.
Till then I never knew peace-parted souls
Could unto souls on earth give benediction
Of peace like that which they enjoy in heaven.
For surely, as we sat there in the sun,
On the fresh turf, there seemed a “ Pax vobiscum”
Descending on us with each dropping leaf ;
And on their graves I think, almost, we laughed,
Recalling words of theirs, and pretty customs,
Until Death seemed, as ’t were, a pleasant thing.
And when we mused, “At home we miss them so!”
One said, “They are at home, and He is with them
Who said so sweetly, ' Children, come to me !
And come to me, ye heavy-laden, worn,
And half-spent soldiers of the bitter battle,
And I will nurse you in my hospital.
The hospitality of heaven is mine :
I am the One Physician, — yours forever;
And, when your wounds are healed, we dwell as friends
In the same mansion, and in purer air
Than where you came from : that was fraught with peril —
O most destructive ! I was also there.’ ”
At this there seemed a whisp3ering from beneath
A certain mound that bare the name of “ Mother ” ;
And we all heard a voice as plain as this.