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XI. After.

I see, as plain as eyes can see,
From this dark point of mystery,
Death sitting at his narrow Gate,—
While all around, disconsolate,
The wretched weep, the weary wait.
God pity us who weep and wait!
But, better still, if sadder, I
From this dark corner can descry
What is well-veil'd from human view:
Beyond the Gate I can pursue
The flight of those who have passed thro'.
God pity us who have passed thro'!
In at the portal, one by one,
They creep, they crawl, with shivering moan—
Nobles and Beggars, Priests and Kings;
Out at the further gate each springs
A Spirit,—with a pair of wings!
God pity us now we have wings!
All round the starry systems stir,
Each silent as a death-chamber;
There is no sound of melody,
Only deep space and mystery;
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And each hath wings to wander free.
God pity us who wander free!
Some cannot use their wings at all;
Some try a feeble flight and fall;
A few, like larks in earthly skies,
With measured beat of wings uprise,
And make their way to Paradise.
God help us on to Paradise!
If ever in their flight through space
They chance to reach that resting-place,
I do not think these creatures dim
Will find the Lord of Cherubim
Exactly what they picture Him.
May God be what we picture Him!
Out of the fiery Sun is thrown
To other worlds the meteor-stone;
Back to the Sun, in season right,
The meteor-stone doth take its flight.
Lost in that melancholy light.
We fade in melancholy light.
I see, as plain as eyes can see,
From this dark point of mystery,
Those fledgling Spirits everywhere;
They sing, they lessen, up the air;
The go to God—Christ help them there!
We go to God—Christ help us there!
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