Valete Tennyson and other Memorial Poems by H. D. Rawnsley |
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Hymn SUNG AT THE GRAVE OF A. F., BRATHAY CHURCHYARD,
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Hymn SUNG AT THE GRAVE OF A. F., BRATHAY CHURCHYARD,
FEBRUARY 26TH, 1884.
Here beside the Bratha's stream
In the Stream of Death we stand—
Bitter waters that would seem
To divide us from the land
Where we fain would gathered be,
Sweet, unselfish one, with thee!
In the Stream of Death we stand—
Bitter waters that would seem
To divide us from the land
Where we fain would gathered be,
Sweet, unselfish one, with thee!
Happy soul, with earnest quest
For the truth and for the right,
Thou so soon hast entered rest—
Thou at length art in the light—
And from clearer heights canst call
Upward! Onward! to us all.
For the truth and for the right,
Thou so soon hast entered rest—
Thou at length art in the light—
And from clearer heights canst call
Upward! Onward! to us all.
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Golden hopes are buried here,
Precious memories abound,
None more holy, none more dear
Lie in consecrated ground—
For her grave, when we depart,
Will be found in every heart.
Precious memories abound,
None more holy, none more dear
Lie in consecrated ground—
For her grave, when we depart,
Will be found in every heart.
Mourn we all for one whose life,
Glowing in a world of gloom,
Scattered radiance, softened strife,
Made for every need some room
In a love that knew no end
To its labour for a friend.
Glowing in a world of gloom,
Scattered radiance, softened strife,
Made for every need some room
In a love that knew no end
To its labour for a friend.
Let the funeral bell be tolled
Not too sadly: she is bride—
Bride of Death—but we, who hold
Our dark vigil here, outside,
Know the Master of the Feast
Has received her for His guest.
Not too sadly: she is bride—
Bride of Death—but we, who hold
Our dark vigil here, outside,
Know the Master of the Feast
Has received her for His guest.
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In the stream of death we stand,
These dark waters only seem
To divide us from the land
Where we all would gathered be,
Happy angel-soul, with thee.
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