Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1830.pdf/12



Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious Winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages.

There went a dirge through the forest's gloom. —An Exile was borne to a lonely tomb.

So swell'd the chaunt; and the deep wind's moan Seemed through the cedars to murmur—"gone!"