III. The melody that dwells in thee Begets in me as well A spiritual harmony, A mild and blessèd spell; Far, far above earth's atmosphere I rise, whene'er thy voice I hear. THE DEPARTED. Not they alone are the departed, Who have laid them down to sleep In the grave narrow and lonely, Not for them only do I vigils keep, Not for them only am I heavy-hearted, Not for them only! Many, many, there are many Who no more are with me here, As cherished, as beloved as any Whom I have seen upon the bier. I weep to think of those old faces, To see them in their grief or mirth; I weep--for there are empty places Around my heart's once crowded hearth; The cold ground doth not cover them, The grass hath not grown over them, Yet are they gone from me on earth;-- O! how more bitter is this weeping, Than for those lost ones who are sleeping Where sun will shine and flowers blow, Where gentle winds will whisper low, And the stars have them in their keeping! Wherefore from me who loved you so, O! wherefore did ye go? I have shed full many a tear, I have wrestled oft in prayer-- But ye do not come again; How could anything so dear, How could anything so fair, Vanish like the summer rain? No, no, it cannot be, But ye are still with me! And yet, O! where art thou, Childhood, with sunny brow And floating hair? Where art thou hiding now? I have sought thee everywhere, All among the shrubs and flowers Of those garden-walks of ours-- Thou art not there! When the shadow of Night's wings Hath darkened all the Earth, I listen for thy gambolings Beside the cheerful hearth-- Thou art not there! I listen to the far-off bell, I murmur o'er the little songs Which thou didst love so well, Pleasant memories come in throngs And mine eyes are blurred with tears, But no glimpse of thee appears: Lonely am I in the Winter, lonely in the Spring, Summer and Harvest bring no trace of thee-- Oh! whither, whither art thou wandering, Thou who didst once so cleave to me?