 | Later Lays and Lyrics |  |
CALLED AWAY.
I.
Low, hollow murmurs from the clear southwestAnnounce the rolling of Spring's chariot wheels;
Light dances on the mountain's stormy crest,
And earth a rapture feels.
130
On the sour face of March will wake a smile,
While robin red-breast a rejoicing song
Is warbling out the while.
The signs of resurrection are abroad
After the wintry death-sleep of the flowers:
The chilly snow-paths that our feet have trod
Will soften with warm showers:—
II.
But, ah! early taken, the dead will not waken,Though hearts bleed and bitterly ache—
The shroud is around her and fetters have bound her
That conquering Spring cannot break:
Young March is not bringer of life to the singer
Whose wood-notes were warbled so well:
A charmed lute is broken, the last word is spoken,
And, hark! to yon death-tolling bell!
III.
I hear a voice that thus rebukes complaint—“The grave can set no bounds to buried worth,
Only clay garments an ascended saint
Leaves to cold, covering earth.”
No lines of care her face will darken more,
No bitter pang shoot through her trembling form;
Won is the crown, for well the cross she bore
Through darkness, grief and storm.
She is not dead—to give her welcome grand
Blest lyres to notes of jubilee were strung
When through the golden gates of Morning Land
She passed, pure, radiant, young.”
131
When the lovely grow wan and take leave,
For sweet, vanished faces and drear, vacant places
The heart that is coldest must grieve;
And one has departed—a minstrel true-hearted—
Whose strain, like the nightingale's lay,
Though dark the sky o'er us, cheered gloom with its chorus
While doubt and dread vanished away.
| Later Lays and Lyrics | |