 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
VALETE OMNIA.
Into that Morning Land of Beauty,
My Pattern Christ—Christ that doth truly know
All my desire has been to do my duty—
Out of this Evening Land of Grief I go—
I go where the wild Roses blow
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below—
All under the grave below!
Oh! give me that crystal Nepenthe,
Where the Waters of Life freely flow;
I will drink to my bright Euryanthe
In the Place where the wild Roses blow—
The Place where I long now to go—
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below—
All under the grave below!
Then, farewell, father! farewell, mother!
Farewell, sister! farewell, brother!
I go where the wild Roses blow
All under the grave below!
“But will you return to us never?”
Said they, “On some future day,
In the Month of May,
From the Place where the wild Roses blow!”
And I answered them, No, no, no!
Oh! no, no, no!
No, never—never—never!
My Pattern Christ—Christ that doth truly know
All my desire has been to do my duty—
Out of this Evening Land of Grief I go—
I go where the wild Roses blow
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below—
All under the grave below!
Oh! give me that crystal Nepenthe,
Where the Waters of Life freely flow;
I will drink to my bright Euryanthe
In the Place where the wild Roses blow—
The Place where I long now to go—
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below—
All under the grave below!
Then, farewell, father! farewell, mother!
Farewell, sister! farewell, brother!
I go where the wild Roses blow
All under the grave below!
27
Said they, “On some future day,
In the Month of May,
From the Place where the wild Roses blow!”
And I answered them, No, no, no!
Oh! no, no, no!
No, never—never—never!
I long for that endless existence,
Where the Morning is just like the Even;
Where the Angels receive their subsistence
From the undefiled Fountains of Heaven—
In the Place where the wild Roses grow
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below—
All under the grave below!
The great golden hand on the Adamant Dial
Of the Clock of Eternity pauses in Heaven!
From Death's bony hand I now empty the Phial—
And the Morning is just like the Even!
I go where the wild Roses blow
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below!
All under the grave below!
Then, farewell, father! farewell, mother!
Farewell, sister! farewell, brother!
I go where the wild Roses blow
All under the grave below!
“Now he will return to us never,”
Said they, “On some future day,
In the Month of May,
From the Place where the wild Roses blow!”
And I answered them, No, no, no!
Oh! no, no, no!
No—NEVER—NEVER—NEVER!
Where the Morning is just like the Even;
Where the Angels receive their subsistence
From the undefiled Fountains of Heaven—
In the Place where the wild Roses grow
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below—
All under the grave below!
The great golden hand on the Adamant Dial
Of the Clock of Eternity pauses in Heaven!
From Death's bony hand I now empty the Phial—
And the Morning is just like the Even!
I go where the wild Roses blow
On the banks of that Beautiful River whose flow
Is under the grave below!
All under the grave below!
Then, farewell, father! farewell, mother!
Farewell, sister! farewell, brother!
I go where the wild Roses blow
All under the grave below!
“Now he will return to us never,”
Said they, “On some future day,
In the Month of May,
From the Place where the wild Roses blow!”
And I answered them, No, no, no!
Oh! no, no, no!
No—NEVER—NEVER—NEVER!
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |