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Rh Dost hear, my heart ? Ah no, thou must not moan, We have not nearly learned our lesson yet ; " Suppose the cruse should fail, and we should starve ? " Let it be so, there is no need to fret. Tis only that the end of life is death, And after death, we know, comes life again, And immortality. — Dost say, poor heart, That future bliss enhances present pain ? Well, hush thee, for a moment, while I send Across the darkness just one bitter cry : " If there be any pilgrims farther on, Turn back, I pray, and help us, or we die." There comes no answer, deeper darkness falls, And yet I am the better for my cry. And thou, O perished heart ! O baby heart ! Within mine aching arms stone-dead dost lie ! Pure heart, good heart, we safely praise the dead ; It died so young, and died so suddenly ; And life is now so empty, and so still. — Poor tender heart, the robins bury thee.