Only so the deeds we do
Help a comrade safely through;
Let the leaves so bright and dead,
Tell of all the life we led
'Mid the joy of Autumn hour
When fruit was shed, and closed the flower.
Let the leaves, so dyed and dead,
Bravely sink to their last bed__
Gorgeous, like some king of old,
Cased in cinnabar and gold;
While our life leaves softly fall,
With dear Love above them all.
LOVE IS DEAD.
"PAN is dead!" the cry went ringing,
And through groves of cypress fell,
Hushing all the Grecian singing
And planting rows of asphodel.
Love is dead! yet birds are singing,
Love is dead ! yet flowers bloom;
And the sunlight, summer bringing,
Cannot light his darkened tomb.