456                                        MEMORIALS.
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLL
BY C. P.  CRANCH.
0 still sweet summer days !    0 moonlight nights!
After so drear a storm how can ye shine ?
O smiling world of many-hued delights,
How canst thou 'round our sad hearts stiU entwine
The accustomed wreaths of pleasure ?    How, 0 Day,
Wakest thou so full of beauty ?    Twilight deep,
How diest thou so tranquilly away ?
And how, O Night, bring'st thou the sphere of sleep ?
For she is gone from us, —gone, lost for ever, —
In the wild billows swaUowed up and lost, —
Gone, full of love, life, hope, and high endeavor,
Just when we would have welcomed her the most
Was it for this, O woman, true and pure !
That life through shade and light had formed thy mind
To feel, imagine, reason, and endure, —
To soar for truth, to labor for mankind ?
Was it for this sad end thou didst bear thy part
In deeds and words for struggling Italy, —
Devoting thy large mind and larger heart
That Rome in later days might yet be free ?
And, from that home driven out by tyranny,
Didst turn to see thy fatherland once more,
Bearing affection's dearest ties with thee ;
And as the vessel bore thee to our shore,
And hope rose to fulfilment, — on the deck,
When friends seemed almost beckoning unto thee :
O God ! the fearful storm, — the splitting wreck, —
The drowning billows of the dreary sea !