无论怎样看守看守羊群，那里总有一只死羊羔!这里没有炉边，无论他怎样防守，却有一张空椅子!空气中充满了对死者的告别和对死者的哀悼;拉结的心因她的儿女哭号说，不得安慰。让我们耐心点!这些严重的痛苦并非来自地面，而是天上的祝福常常披上这黑暗的外衣。透过雾气，我们看得很模糊;在尘世的潮湿中，在我们看来不过是悲伤的，葬礼的烛火也许是遥远的天堂之灯。没有死亡!似乎如此的是过渡; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead,--the child of our affection,-- But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead. Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives. Not as a child shall we again behold her; For when with raptures wild In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child; But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face. And though at times impetuous with emotion And anguish long suppressed, The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, That cannot be at rest,-- We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.