Oh weep for the glory departed That comes not again; And weep for the friends hollow-hearted Ye cared for in vain; And weep for the roses that perished Ere Summer had fled; For hopes that ye vainly have cherished; -- But not for the dead. Nay mourn not for them: they have ended All labours and woes; Their hopes now of glory are blended With perfect repose. And tell me, this thing that is given, Shall it not suffice? They wait for the gladness of Heaven, And have Paradise. |