 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
201
IN MEMORIAM
Once, long ago, with trembling lips I sung
Of one who, when the earliest flowers were seen,
So sweet, so dear, so beautiful and young,
Came home to sleep where kindred graves were green.
Of one who, when the earliest flowers were seen,
So sweet, so dear, so beautiful and young,
Came home to sleep where kindred graves were green.
Soft was the turf we raised to give her room;
Clear were the rain-drops, shining as they fell;
Sweet the arbutus, with its tender bloom
Brightening the couch of her who loved it well.
Clear were the rain-drops, shining as they fell;
Sweet the arbutus, with its tender bloom
Brightening the couch of her who loved it well.
Yet, in our blindness, how we wept that day,
When the earth fell upon her coffin-lid!
O, ye belovèd whom I sing this day,
Could we but know where your dear forms lie hid!
When the earth fell upon her coffin-lid!
O, ye belovèd whom I sing this day,
Could we but know where your dear forms lie hid!
Could we but lay you down by her dear side,
Wrapped in the garments of eternal rest,
Where the still hours in slow succession glide,
And not a dream may stir the pulseless breast—
Wrapped in the garments of eternal rest,
Where the still hours in slow succession glide,
And not a dream may stir the pulseless breast—
Where all day long the shadows come and go,
And soft winds murmur and sweet song-birds sing—
Where all night long the star-light's tender glow
Falls where the flowers you loved are blossoming—
And soft winds murmur and sweet song-birds sing—
Where all night long the star-light's tender glow
Falls where the flowers you loved are blossoming—
202
Then should the tempest of our grief grow, calm;
Then moaning gales should vex our souls no more;
And the clear swelling of our thankful psalm
Should drown the beat of surges on the shore.
Then moaning gales should vex our souls no more;
And the clear swelling of our thankful psalm
Should drown the beat of surges on the shore.
But the deep sea will not give up its dead.
O, ye who know where your belovèd sleep,
Bid heart's-ease bloom on each love-guarded bed,
And bless your God for graves whereon to weep!
O, ye who know where your belovèd sleep,
Bid heart's-ease bloom on each love-guarded bed,
And bless your God for graves whereon to weep!
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |