I'm Wearying To Escape Into That Glorious

I Ran To The Children's Room: Their Door Was Ajar, I Saw They Had Never Laid Down, Though It Was Past Midnight; But They Were Calmer, And Did Not Need Me To Console Them. The Little Souls Were Comforting Each Other With Better Thoughts Than I Could Have Hit On: No Parson In The World Ever Pictured Heaven So Beautifully As They Did, In Their Innocent Talk; And, While I Sobbed, And Listened. I Could Not Help Wishing We Were All There Safe Together.

It Is For God To Punish Wicked People; We Should Learn To Forgive.

And, Even Yet, I Dare Not Let It Languish, Dare Not Indulge In Memory's Rapturous Pain; Once Drinking Deep Of That Divinest Anguish, How Could I Seek The Empty World Again?

I Got The Sexton, Who Was Digging Linton's Grave, To Remove The Earth Off Her Coffin Lid, And I Opened It. I Thought, Once, I Would Have Stayed There, When I Saw Her Face Again - It Is Hers Yet - He Had Hard Work To Stir Me; But He Said It Would Change, If The Air Blew On It.

I'll Walk Where My Own Nature Would Be Leading: It Vexes Me To Choose Another Guide: Where The Grey Flocks In Ferny Glens Are Feeding; Where The Wild Wind Blows On The Mountain-side.