Last Lines of Anne WhitneyA quiet chirp proclaims it nested here. All fragmentary being in his one. An older memory doth steal away. And ask for nothing more. And endless kisses by the yearning sea. And grant us to prize her accordingly! And his imperishable life must share. And so once more, but more alone with God. And warbled hint of something back of sight. And, prithee, where is peace? Are great and worthy, since thou touchest them. As this which we feel -- as this! But king thou art -- yea, free, forever free. By the light of the evening sun. Call unto peace the eternal child, dear Night! Could the world then spare him well? Drops of the bleeding god that turn to flowers. God cleaving for thee the remorseless sea. God intertwines with his eternal will. Hast any lasting peace, or heavenly light. He dreamed; --for a night, he dreamed that he dreamed. In me all things are reconciled! It shall not mar thy strength or thy divineness. Its strength and everlastingness. Lies trembling in the Present's nervous grasp. My fiery ill is all my weal. Of your dead strength, your regal, lost estate. One on another's unrelenting snow. Receives the living infinite of truth. Serenity of things -- yes, faith in the good God! Swathes with white silence all these murmurous boughs. The dusk and fair blent sweet on cheeks and brows. The stern and silent shore with thunder. The warm earth colonized with fruitful trees. Think what the silent stars have known. Thou camest too and dost alone remain. Turned of eighteen. Wake me to life, if need be, bleeding life! What soundness at the heart from east to west! With God's mute confidant this vernal sun. Yea, all the saving beauty of the world! Yet never see the bottom of the cup.