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 From this poor burial, As did we all. No prison here, no dungeon shall you see, But a kind dormitory. Let good Nurse Death strip off your dingy vest, And down, to wider wakening by-and-by, O little Brothers, lie— Lie down to rest! Yea, let the Sower sow, And grieve not, though Stay’d here awhile below. Down, down into the Dark! Your Need is so!”

Down to the Dark!—the Flowers, Listen! the tissues green, What counsel they? “Go down! that from the clay Up ye may rise! in clean, Sweet-colour’d sheen. Poor yet, and unprepared, were it not well Humbly awhile to dwell?— That soon, with brave fresh dazzle and delight Strongly upbursting out of dust and taint, Impearl ye may and paint Day’s radiance bright! What! Should not Glory glow? And Splendour show? Haste ye, make haste to go Down, down into the Dark!— Your Hope is so!”

Ah, and in us, what cry?.... Listen! not strong—profound!