 | The harp and plow |  |
85
MY BROTHER'S OCEAN-GRAVE.
I went to view a brother's grave;
Not where the weeping willows wave
Their pendent branches green;
Not where the spire, with sunward slope,
Points steadfast to the realms of Hope
Above a quiet scene!
Not where the weeping willows wave
Their pendent branches green;
Not where the spire, with sunward slope,
Points steadfast to the realms of Hope
Above a quiet scene!
Not where the monumental stone
Or chiseled statue stands a lone
Cold sentry o'er the dead;
Not where Affection plants with care
Exotics rich and flowers rare
To dress the sleeper's bed.
Or chiseled statue stands a lone
Cold sentry o'er the dead;
Not where Affection plants with care
Exotics rich and flowers rare
To dress the sleeper's bed.
Not where the sunlight on the sod
Gilds, like the blessed smile of God,
The couch of mortal rest;
Where songs of birds and zephyrs fair
Foreshadow to the mourner there
The regions of the blest.
Gilds, like the blessed smile of God,
The couch of mortal rest;
Where songs of birds and zephyrs fair
Foreshadow to the mourner there
The regions of the blest.
Oh, no! I went to view again
The gray and melancholy main,
And rode the storm-rolled wave;
I mused upon the waters wild,
Befitting tomb for Ocean's child;—
There was my brother's grave!
The gray and melancholy main,
And rode the storm-rolled wave;
86
Befitting tomb for Ocean's child;—
There was my brother's grave!
God, in His providence, appears
At times to spurn Affection's tears
And ineffective prayers;
At times 't would seem as if the just
He crushed by sorrows to the dust,
And ‘bands’ in death were theirs.
At times to spurn Affection's tears
And ineffective prayers;
At times 't would seem as if the just
He crushed by sorrows to the dust,
And ‘bands’ in death were theirs.
Such my distracting thoughts, when first,
Years since, the tidings o'er me burst
Like thunder from the cloud;
News of a brother's mortal sleep,
His corse ‘COMMITTED TO THE DEEP,’
Lashed in his hammock-shroud!
Years since, the tidings o'er me burst
Like thunder from the cloud;
News of a brother's mortal sleep,
His corse ‘COMMITTED TO THE DEEP,’
Lashed in his hammock-shroud!
But now I love the restless sea;
Oh, what a mighty grave has he
Within its bosom vast!
Its voiceful billows, as they roll,
Wake solemn music in my soul,
Responsive to the past.
Oh, what a mighty grave has he
Within its bosom vast!
Its voiceful billows, as they roll,
Wake solemn music in my soul,
Responsive to the past.
Buried of Ocean! though my eye
Saw not where thy cold ashes lie,
Not that do I deplore;
In death thou'rt blest; thy grave, the sea,
Is nobler far than mine will be
Upon the tamer shore!
Saw not where thy cold ashes lie,
Not that do I deplore;
In death thou'rt blest; thy grave, the sea,
Is nobler far than mine will be
Upon the tamer shore!
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