To those who have few ties to bind the soul
To earth, it must be sweet to steal away
Gently, from life to death; with calm decline,
Painless but sure, to feel their pow'rs decay ;-
To know that they shall leave th' unkind and cold,
Who made existence joyless to them here,
Soon, and for ever-though they deem not so
Who are around them, nor behold the change
Of the pale cheek, and whitening lip, to hues
More bloodless yet; nor mark the falt'ring frame
Which daily bends more faint and languidly;
Nor see the visible beatings of the heart,
Which hastens to its rest. I would not die
When Spring hath wak'd the thousand melodies

Of young birds mounting joyously to heav'n,
And o'er the earth her emerald vest is thrown,
Starr'd with bright blossoms, fresh, and beautiful-
'Tis sad to be the only withering thing
Amidst reviving nature !-I would fade
With the last ling'ring flow'rs, whose dirge is sung
By the wild voices of th' autumnal winds!