DEATH
Death! that struck when I was
most confiding.
In my certain faith of joy
to be--
Strike again, Time's withered
branch dividing
From the fresh root of Eternity!
Leaves, upon Time's branch,
were growing brightly,
Full of sap, and full of
silver dew;
Birds beneath its shelter
gathered nightly;
Daily round its flowers
the wild bees flew.
Sorrow passed, and plucked
the golden blossom;
Guilt stripped off the foliage
in its pride
But, within its parent's
kindly bosom,
Flowed for ever Life's restoring
tide.
Little mourned I for the
parted gladness,
For the vacant nest and
silent song--
Hope was there, and laughed
me out of sadness;
Whispering, "Winter will
not linger long!"
And, behold! with tenfold
increase blessing,
Spring adorned the beauty-burdened
spray;
Wind and rain and fervent
heat, caressing,
Lavished glory on that second
May!
High it rose--no winged grief
could sweep it;
Sin was scared to distance
with its shine;
Love, and its own life,
had power to keep it
From all wrong--from every
blight but thine!
Cruel Death! The young
leaves droop and languish;
Evening's gentle air may
still restore--
No! the morning sunshine
mocks my anguish-
Time, for me, must never
blossom more!
Strike it down, that other
boughs may flourish
Where that perished sapling
used to be;
Thus, at least, its mouldering
corpse will nourish
That from which it sprung--Eternity. |
