Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Suspiria

Take them, O Death! and bear away
Whatever thou canst call thine own!
Thine image, stamped upon this clay,
Doth give thee that, but that alone!

Take them, O Grave! and let them lie
Folded upon thy narrow shelves,
As garments by the soul laid by,
And precious only to ourselves!

Take them, O great Eternity!
Our little life is but a gust
That bends the branches of thy tree,
And trails its blossoms in the dust! 

1. The Belfry of Bruges
2. Midnight Mass for the Dying Year
3. Burial of the Minnisink
4. Blind Bartimeus
5. Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem

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