The lover there drank her delicious breath Whose love has yielded since to change or death; The mother kissed her child, whose days are o'er. Alas! too soon have fled The irreclaimable dead: We see them--visions strange--amid the Nevermore. The merrysome maiden used to sing-- The brown, brown hair that once was wont to cling To temples long clay-cold: to the very core They strike our weary hearts, As some vexed memory starts From that long faded land--the realm of Nevermore. It is perpetual summer there. But here Sadly may we remember rivers clear, And harebells quivering on the meadow-floor. For brighter bells and bluer, For tenderer hearts and truer People that happy land--the realm of Nevermore. Upon the frontier of this shadowy land We pilgrims of eternal sorrow stand: What realm lies forward, with its happier store Of forests green and deep, Of valleys hushed in sleep, And lakes most peaceful? 'Tis the land of Evermore. Very far off its marble cities seem-- Very far off--beyond our sensual dream-- Its woods, unruffled by the wild wind's roar; Yet does the turbulent surge Howl on its very verge. One moment--and we breathe within the Evermore. They whom we loved and lost so long ago Dwell in those cities, far from mortal woe-- Haunt those fresh woodlands, whence sweet carollings soar. Eternal peace have they; God wipes their tears away: They drink that river of life which flows from Evermore. Thither we hasten through these regions dim, But, lo, the wide wings of the Seraphim Shine in the sunset! On that joyous shore Our lightened hearts shall know The life of long ago: The sorrow-burdened past shall fade for Evermore. MORTIMER COLLINS. * * * * * THE ANSWER. "Who would not go" With buoyant steps, to gain that blessed portal, Which opens to the land we long to know? Where shall be satisfied the soul's immortal, Where we shall drop the wearying and the woe In resting so? "Ah, who would fear?" Since, sometimes through the distant pearly portal, Unclosing to some happy soul a-near, We catch a gleam of glorious light immortal, And strains of heavenly music faintly hear, Breathing good cheer! "Who would endure" To walk in doubt and darkness with misgiving, When he whose tender promises are sure-- The Crucified, the Lord, the Ever-living-- Keeps us those "mansions" evermore secure By waters pure? Oh, wondrous land! Fairer than all our spirit's fairest dreaming: "Eye hath not seen," no heart can understand The things prepared, the cloudless radiance streaming. How longingly we wait our Lord's command-- His opening hand!