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William Wordsworth - Upon Perusing The Forgoing Epistle Thirty Years After Its Composition
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SOON did he Almighty Giver of all rest
Take those dear young Ones to a fearless nest;
And in Death`s arms has long reposed the Friend
For whom this simple Register was penned.
Thanks to the moth that spared it for our eyes;
And Strangers even the slighted Scroll may prize,
Moved by the touch of kindred sympathies.
For--save the calm, repentance sheds o`er strife
Raised by remembrances of misused life,
The light from past endeavours purely willed                
And by Heaven`s favour happily fulfilled;
Save hope that we, yet bound to Earth, may share
The joys of the Departed--what so fair
As blameless pleasure, not without some tears,
Reviewed through Love`s transparent veil of years?
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