POETRY

THE PATH TO THE GRAVE

By Mrs. H. M. Dodge.

The beautiful have passed this way,

Their light is on track;

But lo! 'tis fading from the sight,

It gives glory back.

A mournfulness is resting here--

Oh, death, thy way is full of fear.

The powerful have departed hence,

The mighty and the brave,

And the dead echo of their fame,

Has perished in the grave.

Oh, fame! I tremble at thy breath,

Thou are such pleasant food for death!

The young, the gay, the joyous one,

Has left a song behind,

For all its fine and touching tones

Must perish from the mind.

Oh youth! oh beauty! power and fame!

What are ye but a gilded name!

But there are still an humble few,

How blessed is their lot!-

They pass this dark, and lonely way,

But shall not be forgot;

For lo, all glowing from afar-

Behold their bright, their morning star.

Be joyful, Oh ye ransomed souls,

Your help is from the sky;

And seraphs guide your fearful path

To your bright hopes on high,

On death, thou art the gate of heaven,

To those who feel their sins forgiven!