Studies of Sensation and Event Poems: By Ebenezer Jones. Edited, Prefaced and Annotated by Richard Herne Shepherd with Memorial Notices of the Author by Sumner Jones and William James Linton |
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TO DEATH.
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 | Studies of Sensation and Event |  |
204
TO DEATH.
I see thee in the churchyard, Death,
And fain would talk with thee,
While still I draw the young man's breath
And still with clear eyes see.
And fain would talk with thee,
While still I draw the young man's breath
And still with clear eyes see.
Thou wilt not make my spirit sink,
Thou dost not move my fear;
More sad more blest I often think
The mortal sojourner here.
Thou dost not move my fear;
More sad more blest I often think
The mortal sojourner here.
Here where the symbols all of fair
With vileness mix'd we find;
Where knowledge soothes not, and where care
Haunts most the finest mind.
With vileness mix'd we find;
Where knowledge soothes not, and where care
Haunts most the finest mind.
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'Tis thou who know'st if any knows
Of life's wild maze the key;
And if behind its marvellous shows
Some Master moving be.
Of life's wild maze the key;
And if behind its marvellous shows
Some Master moving be.
And haply of some farther life
That shall this life adjust,
Or if we are men for threescore years,
And then unconscious dust.
That shall this life adjust,
Or if we are men for threescore years,
And then unconscious dust.
For this, oh Death, of thee I crave
Some sign; but not to pray
Against the inevitable grave
Or self-contain'd decay.
Some sign; but not to pray
Against the inevitable grave
Or self-contain'd decay.
Alas! since first our fragile race
Appear'd this earth upon,
Hast thou been question'd thus, and trace
Of answer never won.
Appear'd this earth upon,
Hast thou been question'd thus, and trace
Of answer never won.
In vain the young from youth's delights,
From lips whose kissing bloom
Bright chaos makes of days and nights,
To thee defiant come.
From lips whose kissing bloom
Bright chaos makes of days and nights,
To thee defiant come.
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In vain the old with trembling tread
And trembling hands applies,
And strives to coax thy silence dread,
And lifts beseeching eyes.
And trembling hands applies,
And strives to coax thy silence dread,
And lifts beseeching eyes.
And vainly I desert my post
In life's poor puppet game,
And seek thee where this silent host
Of tombs thy power proclaim.
In life's poor puppet game,
And seek thee where this silent host
Of tombs thy power proclaim.
When midnight wraps the world in sleep,
Or when the vanishing stars
And morn once more, new day to keep,
Rolls back her golden bars.
Or when the vanishing stars
And morn once more, new day to keep,
Rolls back her golden bars.
In vain, in vain, but one reply
In thy sad realm I find;
Some fresh grave ever meets the eye,
And mocks the unanswer'd mind.
In thy sad realm I find;
Some fresh grave ever meets the eye,
And mocks the unanswer'd mind.
June 10, 1860.
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