Poems of home and country Also, Sacred and Miscellaneous Verse |
 |
| 1. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 2. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 3. |
|
|
|
|
THE PRESENT AND THE ETERNAL. |
|
|
|
| 4. |
|
|
|
|
 | Poems of home and country |  |
THE PRESENT AND THE ETERNAL.
'T is but a step to yon bright world,
The home above the skies;
As evening beauty scarcely pales,
E'er morning's glories rise.
The home above the skies;
As evening beauty scarcely pales,
E'er morning's glories rise.
'T is but an hour,—and scenes of grief
Shall change to joy again,
As rainbows crown the passing cloud
With sunlight, after rain.
Shall change to joy again,
As rainbows crown the passing cloud
With sunlight, after rain.
A tale of woe, a sad farewell,
A shriek of pain or grief,—
'T is but a wave that stirs the air,
A breeze that fans the leaf.
A shriek of pain or grief,—
'T is but a wave that stirs the air,
A breeze that fans the leaf.
'T is but a shadow, when the sun
Is hid in dim eclipse;
'T is but a frozen dewdrop when
The frost the rose-leaf nips.
Is hid in dim eclipse;
'T is but a frozen dewdrop when
The frost the rose-leaf nips.
The frost dissolves; the dew exhales;
The rose-tree blooms anew;
The shadow passes; burns the sun,
As erst, in heaven's bright blue.
The rose-tree blooms anew;
The shadow passes; burns the sun,
As erst, in heaven's bright blue.
246
'T is but a night when darkness rules,
And mortals tread uncertain;
Quick comes the dawn, and beaming morn
Pours sunlight through the curtain.
And mortals tread uncertain;
Quick comes the dawn, and beaming morn
Pours sunlight through the curtain.
Not time, nor space, nor work shall e'er
Love's clasping tendrils sever;
As clinging vines still upward climb,
And, climbing, cling forever.
Love's clasping tendrils sever;
As clinging vines still upward climb,
And, climbing, cling forever.
O blessed bond of loving hearts;
Blest union, never broken;
Blest land, where tears are never shed,
And farewells never spoken!
Blest union, never broken;
Blest land, where tears are never shed,
And farewells never spoken!
Through joy and grief, through pain and death,
We tread towards heaven's high portal,
And yield, unmoved, the things that change,
For flowers and fruits immortal.
We tread towards heaven's high portal,
And yield, unmoved, the things that change,
For flowers and fruits immortal.
November 7, 1866.
| Poems of home and country | |