O wind, that o'er my head art flying
The way my friends their course did bend
I should not feel the pain of dying,
Could I with thee a message send ;
Too soon, my friends, ye went away,
For I had many things to say.
I'll follow you across the snow;
Ye travel heavily and slow;
In spite of all my weary pain,
I'll look upon your tents again,
-My fire is dead, and snowy white
The water which beside it stood;
The wolf has come to me to-night,
And he has stolen away my food.
For ever left alone am I ;
Then wherefore should I fear to die?
Young as I am, my course is run,
I shall not see another sun;
I cannot lift my limbs to know
If they have any life or no.
My poor forsaken child, if I
For once could have thee close to me,
With happy heart I then would die,
And my last thought would happy be;
But thou, dear babe, art far away,
Nor shall I see another day.
THINE eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart, torment me with disdain;
Have put on black, and living mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the gray cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face!
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
SHAKESPEARE Sonnet CXXXII.
I WOULD not look up thither past thy head Because the door opes, like that child, I know. For I should have thy gracious face instead,
Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low Like him, and lay, like his, my hands together, And lift them up to pray, and gently tether Me, as thy lamb there, with thy garments spread?
If this was ever granted, I would rest
My head beneath thine, while thy healing hands Close covered both my eyes beside thy breast, Pressing the brain, which too much thought expands,
Back to its proper size again, and smoothing
Distortion down till every nerve had soothing,
And all lay quiet, happy, and suppressed.
How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired! I think how I should view the earth and skies And sea, when once again my brow was bared
After thy healing, with such different eyes, O world, as God has made it! All is beauty: And knowing this, is love, and love is duty. What further may be sought for or declared? R. BROWNING.
O IT is sweet to think
Of those that are departed,
While murmured Aves sink
To silence tender-hearted;
While tears that have no pain
Are tranquilly distilling,
And the dead live again
In hearts that love is filling.
Yet not as in the days
Of earthly ties we love them;
For they are touched with rays
From light that is above them :
Another sweetness shines
Around their well-known features
God with His glory signs
His dearly-ransomed creatures.
Ah! they are more our own,
Since now they are God's only;
And each one that has gone
Has left our heart less lonely.
He mourns not seasons fled,
Who now in Him possesses
Treasures of many dead
In their dear Lord's caresses.
Dear dead! they have become
Like guardian angels to us;
And distant heaven like home,
Through them begins to woo us.
Love that was earthly wings
Its flight to holier places;
The dead are sacred things
That multiply our graces.
They, whom we loved on earth,
Attract us now to Heaven;
Who shared our grief and mirth
Back to us now are given.
They move with noiseless foot
Gravely and sweetly round us,
And their soft touch hath cut
Full many a chain that bound us.
O dearest dead! to Heaven
With grudging sighs we gave you, To Him-be doubts forgiven !
Who took you there to save you :Now get us grace to love
Your memories yet more kindly, Pine for our homes above
And trust, God/ more blindly.
I TELL thee, child, the world's so thick with love
Blazoned in beautifulness, that if two pure hearts
Turn to one sunset, drink one molten gold,
Read there together secrets of this world
Leaning from life towards a larger shore,
And, clasping Nature's breast, find Truth and Love
One divine essence, thereupon some chain
Of luminous fire encircles; each to each
Infixed awakens; angel-woven ties
Of infinite, life-deep sympathy enthral,
And far into the splendours of the west
Flashes the new-born glory of their love,
And the world's ocean-billows clap their hands,
And the light throbs again from star to Sun
Exultant for two souls that soar to one.
|