Ah, brief the calm! the restless wave of feeling Rises again when the bright cloud sweeps by, And our unrestful souls reflect no longer That tender vision of the upper sky. Espousèd Lord of the pure saints in glory, To whom all faithful souls affianced are, Breathe down thy peace into our restless spirits, And make a lasting, heavenly vision there. So the bright gates no more on us shall close; No more the cloud of angels fade away; And we shall walk, amid life's weary strife, In the calm light of thine eternal day. THE CHARMER "_Socrates._ However, you and Simmias appear to me as if you wished to sift this subject more thoroughly, and to be afraid, like children, lest, on the soul's departure from the body, winds should blow it away. "Upon this Cebes said, 'Endeavor to teach us better, Socrates. Perhaps there is a childish spirit in our breast that has such a dread. Let us endeavor to persuade him not to be afraid of death, as of hobgoblins.' "'But you must charm him every day,' said Socrates, 'until you have quieted his fears.' "'But whence, O Socrates,' he said, 'can we procure a skillful charmer for such a case, now you are about to leave us?' "'Greece is wide, Cebes,' he said, 'and in it surely there are skillful men; and there are many barbarous nations, all of which you should search, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither money nor toil.'"--Last words of Socrates, as narrated by Plato in the _Phoedo_. We need that charmer, for our hearts are sore With longings for the things that may not be, Faint for the friends that shall return no more, Dark with distrust, or wrung with agony. "What is this life? and what to us is death? Whence came we? whither go? and where are those Who, in a moment stricken from our side, Passed to that land of shadow and repose? "And are they all dust? and dust must we become? Or are they living in some unknown clime? Shall we regain them in that far-off home, And live anew beyond the waves of time? "O man divine! on thee our souls have hung; Thou wert our teacher in these questions high; But ah! this day divides thee from our side, And veils in dust thy kindly guiding eye. "Where is that Charmer whom thou bidst us seek? On what far shores may his sweet voice be heard? When shall these questions of our yearning souls Be answered by the bright Eternal Word?" So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round, When Socrates lay calmly down to die; So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour When earth's fair morning star should rise on high.