ENCOURAGEMENT
I do not weep; I would not weep;
Our mother needs no tears:
Dry thine eyes, too; 'tis
vain to keep
This causeless grief for
years.
What though her brow be changed
and cold,
Her sweet eyes closed for
ever?
What though the stone--the
darksome mould
Our mortal bodies sever?
What though her hand smooth
ne'er again
Those silken locks of thine?
Nor, through long hours
of future pain,
Her kind face o'er thee
shine?
Remember still, she is not
dead;
She sees us, sister, now;
Laid, where her angel spirit
fled,
'Mid heath and frozen snow.
And from that world of heavenly
light
Will she not always bend
To guide us in our lifetime's
night,
And guard us to the end?
Thou knowest she will; and
thou mayst mourn
That WE are left below:
But not that she can ne'er
return
To share our earthly woe. |
