FLEETING TO THE SPIRIT-LAND by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY

AND I am dying—life and strength are gone,—
Faded, as fade the hues of evening rainbows,
And the glad thoughts in which I did indulge
Pass, like sere autumn leaves;—no more for me
The happy sunbeam smiles, nor on my eyes
The starry lights that gild the arch of morn
Shall gleam,—nor thy sweet sorrowing look, O moon!
The haunted forest, the flower-sprinkled plains
I shall not tread again; nor look aloft
On the crystalline clouds that veil from sight
Of human eye the paradise-thrones of God.
Behold! my days are done!—and what have I to show
To the ETERNAL, for the trust HE gave me?

Oh Life, warm Life, I feel thee passing from me!
The spirits that are near, methinks are come
To bear me from this orb upon their wings,
Far to some airy realm, beyond the ken
Of human eye or fancy. * * * *

Whate'er our destiny may be, we know not;
But yet, methinks 'tis joy. A strain of music
Seems borne on mists of sunshine through my soul,
And million-peopled dreams, and living visions,
Crowd round me full of life and active passion:
And there are beauteous landscapes, and fair skies,
And genial meetings, and enchanted hours,
And tones of old and well-remembered songs,
And spirit-shapes, bringing my life before me;
And some are clad in beauty, such as crowned
The angels, ere they fell from heaven through pride.

Oh, wandering Shapes,
That rise in star-shine and in melody around me,
Beckoning me on with fond and beaming eyes,
Whence have ye come, and whither do ye wend?
Pale and most spirit-like your features seem,
Like lilies in the moonlight bathed in dew.
Whence are these exquisite voices? Whence the hymns
Of sad celestial sweetness that ye raise?
Who strikes the harp with silver strings so gently?——

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