 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
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MARY'S DIRGE.
“Weep not for her! her memory is the shrine
Of pleasant thoughts.”—
Dr. Moir.
Of pleasant thoughts.”—
Dr. Moir.
A low and gentle strain! for she was gentle
Whose lips have breathed farewell to life and light,
Consigned to rest beneath the summer mantle
That Earth is wearing on her bosom bright.
But yesterday her voice was heard in singing,
And kindly smiles her visage overspread,
And, now, the minstrel tearfully is stringing
His yew-wreathed lute in honor of the dead.
When skies were fairest, and young roses giving
Elysian odor to the passing air—
When even Age found luxury in living,
She heard a whispered warning to prepare.
Whose lips have breathed farewell to life and light,
Consigned to rest beneath the summer mantle
That Earth is wearing on her bosom bright.
But yesterday her voice was heard in singing,
And kindly smiles her visage overspread,
And, now, the minstrel tearfully is stringing
His yew-wreathed lute in honor of the dead.
When skies were fairest, and young roses giving
Elysian odor to the passing air—
When even Age found luxury in living,
She heard a whispered warning to prepare.
In sluggish mould a grave was never hollowed
For one more dear to those who knew her well,
And young and old, in deep dejection, followed
The white-robed sleeper to her narrow cell;
All, in the long and dark procession walking,
Felt, knocking at their hearts, no common grief,
While many, in sad undertone, were talking
Of ills endured until she brought relief:
And one poor father a remembrance cherished—
That on the pall, obscuring with its shade
The coffin of his child all pale and perished!
A wreath of emblematic flowers she laid.
For one more dear to those who knew her well,
And young and old, in deep dejection, followed
The white-robed sleeper to her narrow cell;
All, in the long and dark procession walking,
Felt, knocking at their hearts, no common grief,
While many, in sad undertone, were talking
Of ills endured until she brought relief:
And one poor father a remembrance cherished—
That on the pall, obscuring with its shade
The coffin of his child all pale and perished!
A wreath of emblematic flowers she laid.
He little thought ere many moons had vanished
The turf would open for that gentle friend;
The rose of beauty from her cheek be banished,
The blight from skies without a cloud descend.
The heart that mourns, a consolation borrows
In knowing that her triumph is our loss;
A glorious crown the Man of many sorrows
Gives to the lowly bearer of his cross.
For a wise purpose are we here delaying
Our upward march to realms more rich and vast,
Like weary sea-birds for a moment staying
Far from the land upon some rocking mast.
The turf would open for that gentle friend;
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The blight from skies without a cloud descend.
The heart that mourns, a consolation borrows
In knowing that her triumph is our loss;
A glorious crown the Man of many sorrows
Gives to the lowly bearer of his cross.
For a wise purpose are we here delaying
Our upward march to realms more rich and vast,
Like weary sea-birds for a moment staying
Far from the land upon some rocking mast.
Our pulses, here, are numbered in their beating,
And Death stands ever watching at the gate;
The morning pearl-drop and the shadow fleeting
Are emblems of our transitory state.
The forest eagle, ere he furls forever
His iron wing, a century completes,
And on the moss-fringed oak, in vain endeavor,
While kingdoms rise and fall, the tempest beats;
But Man, the boasted ruler of Creation,
Floats a few days upon a troubled sea!
Then sinks from view, exceeded in duration,
By the wild wandering bird, and senseless tree.
And Death stands ever watching at the gate;
The morning pearl-drop and the shadow fleeting
Are emblems of our transitory state.
The forest eagle, ere he furls forever
His iron wing, a century completes,
And on the moss-fringed oak, in vain endeavor,
While kingdoms rise and fall, the tempest beats;
But Man, the boasted ruler of Creation,
Floats a few days upon a troubled sea!
Then sinks from view, exceeded in duration,
By the wild wandering bird, and senseless tree.
Why cling then to the fleeting, false and fading,
Oh, Man! with lofty faculties endowed?
Thy future lot a mystic veil is shading,
But light eternal beams behind the cloud.
Cords of affection, in this rude world broken,
Will knit, at last, to part no more in twain,
And ashy lips, that farewell words have spoken,
In a long kiss of love unite again.
Be reconciled with God! devoted mother!
And hope for blest reunion with your child:
And thou—her o'erfond father—try to smother
The woe wherewith your brain is waxing wild.
Oh, Man! with lofty faculties endowed?
Thy future lot a mystic veil is shading,
But light eternal beams behind the cloud.
Cords of affection, in this rude world broken,
Will knit, at last, to part no more in twain,
And ashy lips, that farewell words have spoken,
In a long kiss of love unite again.
Be reconciled with God! devoted mother!
And hope for blest reunion with your child:
And thou—her o'erfond father—try to smother
The woe wherewith your brain is waxing wild.
Death laid cold finger on her eyes terrestrial
Those of the soul enfranchised to unseal,
And would ye call her back from joys celestial
The pangs that vex ye here, again to feel?
Your daughter dear is now a glad partaker
Of aliment divine, we are assured;
For, pure in heart, she looks upon her Maker—
Hushed every moan, her mortal anguish cured;
Looks where no cloud around His throne is rolling,
Not darkly through a glass, but face to face,
Beyond this orb where bells are ever tolling
The bitter knells of loveliness and grace.
Those of the soul enfranchised to unseal,
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The pangs that vex ye here, again to feel?
Your daughter dear is now a glad partaker
Of aliment divine, we are assured;
For, pure in heart, she looks upon her Maker—
Hushed every moan, her mortal anguish cured;
Looks where no cloud around His throne is rolling,
Not darkly through a glass, but face to face,
Beyond this orb where bells are ever tolling
The bitter knells of loveliness and grace.
Though painful and unlooked-for was the closing,
In this dark valley, of her mortal day!
Be reconciled—a holy trust reposing
In Power Supreme who gives and takes away.
I know that darkness rests upon your dwelling,
And cold the hearth of home so bright before,
While bird and breeze, and rustling leaf seem telling
A tale of her who will come back no more.
In dreams of night I know that she is present,
With her mild look and unobtrusive air,
And that ye hear her accents, low and pleasant,
Her light, familiar footstep on the stair.
In this dark valley, of her mortal day!
Be reconciled—a holy trust reposing
In Power Supreme who gives and takes away.
I know that darkness rests upon your dwelling,
And cold the hearth of home so bright before,
While bird and breeze, and rustling leaf seem telling
A tale of her who will come back no more.
In dreams of night I know that she is present,
With her mild look and unobtrusive air,
And that ye hear her accents, low and pleasant,
Her light, familiar footstep on the stair.
Turn from the house of flesh, in ruin lying,
And with the steady eye of faith behold
Its bright inhabitant released, undying,
In Heaven's full concert waken harp of gold;
Pray that, in watches of the midnight dreary,
A note of that sweet music reach your ears,
Healing the heart with sorrow bruised and weary—
Drying the fount of unavailing tears!
A low, sad, gentle strain, for she was gentle
Whose lips have breathed farewell to life and light,
Consigned to rest beneath the summer mantle
That Earth is wearing on her bosom bright.
And with the steady eye of faith behold
Its bright inhabitant released, undying,
In Heaven's full concert waken harp of gold;
Pray that, in watches of the midnight dreary,
A note of that sweet music reach your ears,
Healing the heart with sorrow bruised and weary—
Drying the fount of unavailing tears!
A low, sad, gentle strain, for she was gentle
Whose lips have breathed farewell to life and light,
Consigned to rest beneath the summer mantle
That Earth is wearing on her bosom bright.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |