 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
27
THE FUNERAL
As I passed down the street,
Sighing and singing,
Making its pavement sweet
With flowery flinging,
Came the unwelcome feet,
Sad burthen bringing.
Sighing and singing,
Making its pavement sweet
With flowery flinging,
Came the unwelcome feet,
Sad burthen bringing.
Death! I forgot thou shouldst
Harvest this morning:
Not for thy festival
Was my adorning;
Yet to my heart I take,
Duteous, thy warning.
Harvest this morning:
Not for thy festival
Was my adorning;
Yet to my heart I take,
Duteous, thy warning.
Out of the pleasant day
Darkly they lay thee:
Shall thine accustomed haunts
No more display thee;
Shall thy high house of life
Cease to obey thee.
Darkly they lay thee:
Shall thine accustomed haunts
No more display thee;
Shall thy high house of life
Cease to obey thee.
Done are thy deeds of good,
And thy malefeasance;
Ended the years of dole,
And the short pleasance:
Thou art a power no more,
Only a presence.
And thy malefeasance;
28
And the short pleasance:
Thou art a power no more,
Only a presence.
Hot tears bedim the eyes
That would behold thee;
Death-spasms wring the hearts
Whose loves infold thee;
While monumental Grief
Waits to inmould thee.
That would behold thee;
Death-spasms wring the hearts
Whose loves infold thee;
While monumental Grief
Waits to inmould thee.
Whither, ah! whither gone,
From our wild weeping?
For what new threshing-floor
Bound with strange reaping?
Taken, we know no more,
Into God's keeping.
From our wild weeping?
For what new threshing-floor
Bound with strange reaping?
Taken, we know no more,
Into God's keeping.
| From Sunset Ridge | |