Poems By Henry Nutcombe Oxenham. Third Edition |
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 | Poems |  |
59
XX.
“Immortalis est enim memoria illius.”
I ne'er beheld thy winning grace,
Thy calm angelic smile,
Nor watched how heavenly thoughts would trace
Bright gleams and shadows on thy face
Beneath its gentle wile.
Thy calm angelic smile,
Nor watched how heavenly thoughts would trace
Bright gleams and shadows on thy face
Beneath its gentle wile.
And yet, methinks, I read e'en now
The glance of those bright eyes,
I seem to gaze upon thy brow,
To hear those accents sweet and low
Like music from the skies.
The glance of those bright eyes,
I seem to gaze upon thy brow,
To hear those accents sweet and low
Like music from the skies.
That glance, it speaks of glorious things
No language may express,
Unearthly fair imaginings
Are pictured in the sunny springs
Of its blue silentness.
No language may express,
Unearthly fair imaginings
Are pictured in the sunny springs
Of its blue silentness.
For such thou wast on earth,—'tis mine
To love thee as thou art,
Where thy bright virgin form doth shine
In paradise, thy spirit shall twine
Its tendrils round my heart.
To love thee as thou art,
Where thy bright virgin form doth shine
In paradise, thy spirit shall twine
Its tendrils round my heart.
60
Then let thy memory be to me
A charm of mystic power,
To stay the glance too bold and free,
When sinful thoughts press heavily
To soothe the darksome hour.
A charm of mystic power,
To stay the glance too bold and free,
When sinful thoughts press heavily
To soothe the darksome hour.
Far, far away thy lowly tomb
Sleeps in the churchyard shade,
Where oft in childhood I have come,
To watch the tiny flowerets bloom
Above where thou art laid.
Sleeps in the churchyard shade,
Where oft in childhood I have come,
To watch the tiny flowerets bloom
Above where thou art laid.
But yet I feel thee ever near,
For holy Church is one;
The funeral hymn, the gloomy bier,
Are but the dawn of one bright year,
Eternity begun.
For holy Church is one;
The funeral hymn, the gloomy bier,
Are but the dawn of one bright year,
Eternity begun.
Yes!—thou art near, thou knowest full well
Our prayers are breathed for thee,
And in the Church invisible,
The middle home where thou dost dwell,
Bright spirit, pray for me!
Our prayers are breathed for thee,
And in the Church invisible,
The middle home where thou dost dwell,
Bright spirit, pray for me!
| Poems | |