Page:Frederic Rowton on Landon.pdf/23

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And they have thanked thee—many a lip Has asked of thine for words, When thoughts, life's finer thoughts, have touched The spirit's inmost chords.

How many loved and honoured thee Who only knew thy name; Which o'er the weary working world Like starry music came! With what still hours of calm delight Thy songs and image blend; I cannot choose but think thou wert An old familiar friend.

The charm that dwelt in songs of thine My inmost spirit moved; And yet I feel as thou hadst been Not half enough beloved. They say that thou wert faint, and worn With suffering and with care; What music must have filled the soul That had so much to spare!

Oh, weary One! since thou art laid Within thy mother's breast— The green, the quiet mother-earth— Thrice blessed be thy rest! Thy heart is left within our hearts. Although life's pang is o'er; But the quick tears are in my eyes. And I can write no more.