Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet

Dead Shepherd, Now I Find Thy Saw Of Might. Whoever Lov'd That Lov'd Not At First Sight.

Lay Aside Life-harming Heaviness, And Entertain A Cheerful Disposition.

And This, Our Life, Exempt From Public Haunt, Finds Tongues In Trees, Books In The Running Brooks, Sermons In Stones, And Good In Everything.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose, And On Old Hiems' Thin And Icy Crown An Odorous Chaplet Of Sweet Summer Buds Is, As In Mockery, Set. The Spring, The Summer, The Childing Autumn, Angry Winter, Change Their Wonted Liveries, And The Mazed World, By Their Increase, Now Knows Not Which Is Which.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell.