 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
“I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY.”
Only a little tired,—yes, that is all;
Only a little wearied,—nothing more;
I fain would turn my face unto the wall,
And catch the music from the other shore.
Only a little wearied,—nothing more;
I fain would turn my face unto the wall,
And catch the music from the other shore.
111
All that I long for is to be at rest,
For if I could, “I would not live alway;”
And so, with folded hands upon my breast,
I wait till God's own chimes ring in the day.
For if I could, “I would not live alway;”
And so, with folded hands upon my breast,
I wait till God's own chimes ring in the day.
Naught wish I for, but just to fall asleep—
To close my weary eyes upon the light;
And tho' there's much that I might long to keep,
I yield all up, and gladly say, “Good night.”
To close my weary eyes upon the light;
And tho' there's much that I might long to keep,
I yield all up, and gladly say, “Good night.”
Not that my lot was shadowed by much pain,
Or bitter made by trouble or by tears;
I dare not venture, if I would complain,
Since joy and hope outbalanced grief and fears.
Or bitter made by trouble or by tears;
I dare not venture, if I would complain,
Since joy and hope outbalanced grief and fears.
I know my life was happy on the whole,
Unnumbered mercies cheered my pilgrim way;
And as I now take counsel with my soul,
I see that sunshine gladdened many a day.
Unnumbered mercies cheered my pilgrim way;
And as I now take counsel with my soul,
I see that sunshine gladdened many a day.
Blessings were thickly scattered on my road,
With countless gifts my brimming cup was full;
Sweet flowers sprang up around the path I trod,
Which I had only to stoop down and cull.
With countless gifts my brimming cup was full;
Sweet flowers sprang up around the path I trod,
Which I had only to stoop down and cull.
And I have dear ones whom I love full well,
Who lie close as it pulses to my heart;
No words of mine can ever justly tell
How of my life they made the dearer part.
Who lie close as it pulses to my heart;
No words of mine can ever justly tell
How of my life they made the dearer part.
112
Oh, never think, my own true faithful wife,
Or children, friends, your love I do not prize!
For this, with rainbow, spanned the clouds of life
And struck a chord of music from its sighs.
Or children, friends, your love I do not prize!
For this, with rainbow, spanned the clouds of life
And struck a chord of music from its sighs.
Grateful I am for all you richly gave
Of pure affection, and unselfish love;
These soothe me now as I draw near the grave,
Their mem'ry will enrich the heav'n above.
Of pure affection, and unselfish love;
These soothe me now as I draw near the grave,
Their mem'ry will enrich the heav'n above.
And if from heart that loves you, I confess
I long to leave this for the other shore,
It is not, dear ones, that I love you less,
But that I love Him whom I go to more.
I long to leave this for the other shore,
It is not, dear ones, that I love you less,
But that I love Him whom I go to more.
Then do not wonder if I truly say,
Tho' looking o'er a past, serene and bright,
“I would not, if I could, live here alway,”
Or walk by faith, when I may walk by sight.
Tho' looking o'er a past, serene and bright,
“I would not, if I could, live here alway,”
Or walk by faith, when I may walk by sight.
Nor pray, dear friends, to keep me longer here,
Your prayers may check the eager spirit's flight;
And do not, as ye love me, shed a tear,
'Tis only after all a short “Good night.”
Your prayers may check the eager spirit's flight;
And do not, as ye love me, shed a tear,
'Tis only after all a short “Good night.”
Weep not for me—tired only—that is all,
Only a little wearied,—and no more;
“Good night,”—I turn my face unto the wall,
I hear the music from the other shore.
Only a little wearied,—and no more;
“Good night,”—I turn my face unto the wall,
I hear the music from the other shore.
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |