 | Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell |  |
43
II. ABOVE THE BIER.
Above the bier, I said,
This is not death;
The rose is only shed,
Like flow'rs at even;
Therefore be comforted,
The soul will bloom in heav'n,
Freed from its sheath.
This is not death;
The rose is only shed,
Like flow'rs at even;
Therefore be comforted,
The soul will bloom in heav'n,
Freed from its sheath.
It is not death, but life,
Fuller, more true,
To pass from care and strife,
Sorrow and pain,
Sharp as the bitter knife
That draws the tears like rain,
Where all is new.
Fuller, more true,
To pass from care and strife,
Sorrow and pain,
Sharp as the bitter knife
That draws the tears like rain,
Where all is new.
My love for her,—its height
How great, how broad,
Thou canst not know, till light
On darkness shine;
Its scale is infinite,
None can its depths divine,
No! none but God.
How great, how broad,
Thou canst not know, till light
On darkness shine;
Its scale is infinite,
None can its depths divine,
No! none but God.
| Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell | |