University of Virginia Library


50

OPHELIA.

Beckoning ever, beckoning me,
Past the silver-girdled lea,
And orchards lined with willow tree,—
The river flows so silently.
From a sheet of bounteous tide,
Flashing answer low replied,
“They who lost their hope have died.”
The river glides most peacefully.
Death is peace, but life unrest.
Heaven must come and Heaven is best.
Fold me slumber of the blest!
Wearied birds must seek their nest.
The river runs enticingly.