394 CHANGE.
The mighty statesman from the senate sinketh, And eloquence in sackcloth mourns for him.
The lofty Czar who held his millions quaking, Who woke the nations with a warrior-tread,
On his camp-bed a pulseless sleep is taking, Pale as the serf that in his battles bled.
��Change sweeps o er all. In home s sweet orb it worketh ;
Clouds, silver-lined, grow dark with gushing rain ; But, prism d on tears, the bow of promise lurketh,
The Sun breaks forth, and all is bright again.
Up comes the cradling to his father s stature;
Down o er his staff the man of prowess bends ; Unpitying Winter strips the pomp from nature,
And snows o er beauty s lustrous locks descend.
To her first babe the joyous mother clingeth ;
Another weepeth in her rifled nest, And to the grave s cold casket, grudging, bringeth
The little diamond from her yearning breast.
But the redeemed soul hath no declension;
Tired sense may fail, the eye forget its fire ; The nerve be severed in its earthly tension,
The unchain d spirit soareth toward its Sire ;
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