The shore-lark soars to his topmost flight,
Sings at the height where morning springs,
What though his voice be lost in the light,
...
Here in the inmost of the master's heart
This violet crisp with early dew
Has come to leave her beauty and to part
With all her vivid hue.
...
I gave her a rose in early June,
Fed with the sun and the dew,
Each petal I said is a note in the tune,
...
To ports of balm through isles of musk
The gentle airs are leading us;
To curtained calm and tents of dusk,
The wood-wild things unheeding us
...
She breathèd deep,
And stepped from out life's stream
Upon the shore of sleep;
And parted from the earthly noise,
...
Those who die on Christmas Day
(I heard the triumphant Seraph say)
Will be remembered, for they died
Upon the Holy Christmastide;
...
Gather the leaves from the forest
And blow them over the world,
The wind of winter follows
The wind of autumn furled.
...
Here in the pungent gloom
Where the tamarac roses glow
And the balsam burns its perfume,
...
I
Growing, growing, all the glory going;
Flashing out of fire and light, burning to a husk,
...
Her life was touched with early frost,
About the April of her day,
Her hold on earth was lightly lost,
And like a leaf she went away.
...