Littell's Living Age/Volume 173/Issue 2240/"The Other Side"

lilies droop, and my room is chill, Though 'tis Easter, not Christmastide: But I see my neighbor draw his blind, For the sun, on "the other side."

Sweet hopes of love, and of toil's reward, Have drooped with the flowers, and died: I wonder if there is something yet To be said on "the other side."

And life drags on like a winter night, Black and cold, without star to guide; Perchance we must wait to understand Till we get to "the other side."