VIII

That such have died enables us
The tranquiller to die;
That such have lived, certificate
For immortality.

IX

They won’t frown always, — some sweet day
When I forget to tease,
They’ll recollect how cold I looked,
And how I just said ‘please.’

Then they will hasten to the door
To call the little child,
Who cannot thank them, for the ice
That on her lisping piled.