AS Time one day by me did pass, Through a large dusky glass He held, I chanc'd to look, And spied his curious book Of past days, where sad Heav'n did shed A mourning light upon the dead. Many disorder'd lives I saw, And foul records, which thaw My kind eyes still, but in A fair, white page of thin And ev'n, smooth lines, like the sun's rays, Thy name was writ, and all thy days. O bright and happy kalendar ! Where youth shines like a star All pearl'd with tears, and may Teach age the holy way ; Where through thick pangs, high agonies, Faith into life breaks, and Death dies. As some meek night-piece which day quails, To candle-light unveils : So by one beamy line From thy bright lamp, did shine In the same page thy humble grave, Set with green herbs, glad hopes and brave. Here slept my thought's dear mark ! which dust Seem'd to devour, like rust ; But dust—I did observe— By hiding doth preserve ; As we for long and sure recruits, Candy with sugar our choice fruits. O calm and sacred bed, where lies In death's dark mysteries A beauty far more bright Than the noon's cloudless light ; For whose dry dust green branches bud, And robes are bleach'd in the Lamb's blood. Sleep, happy ashes !—blessed sleep !— While hapless I still weep ; Weep that I have outliv'd My life, and unreliev'd Must—soullesse shadow !—so live on, Though life be dead, and my joys gone.