 | Poems by Henry Septimus Sutton |  |
181
B. M. B.
What, gone? Our fair young neighbour?
It cannot, cannot be true!—
But how will the mother bear it?
And what will the father do?
It cannot, cannot be true!—
But how will the mother bear it?
And what will the father do?
Alas, for the hearts sore wounded,
For the lives so much undone!
Alas for their home, their hearth, their earth,
Alas for their moon and sun!
For the lives so much undone!
Alas for their home, their hearth, their earth,
Alas for their moon and sun!
For the sky will fill again with light,
But not as it fill'd before;
The hearth-fire crackling may be bright,
But how can it warm them more?
But not as it fill'd before;
The hearth-fire crackling may be bright,
But how can it warm them more?
Weary, old earth will look, and worn,
And home some alien scene
Planted with many a keen heart-thorn
Wherever her hand hath been,—
And home some alien scene
Planted with many a keen heart-thorn
Wherever her hand hath been,—
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Planted with thorn by loving hands
That only planted flowers;
But love-flowers turn to roots of pain
When wash'd by the death-grief's showers.
That only planted flowers;
But love-flowers turn to roots of pain
When wash'd by the death-grief's showers.
Yet can it be, Fair Neighbour,—
Gone, with the sweet young face,
The eyes so bright with kindly light,
And the form so gentle with grace?
Gone, with the sweet young face,
The eyes so bright with kindly light,
And the form so gentle with grace?
The mouth that sang so sweetly
As the music moved along?
The voice that seem'd in common speech
Almost as pleasant as song?
As the music moved along?
The voice that seem'd in common speech
Almost as pleasant as song?
Gone to the land so silent,
The home hid deep in the sky,
Whereto our questioning hearts look up,
But never for reply?
The home hid deep in the sky,
Whereto our questioning hearts look up,
But never for reply?
Alas, alas! Fair Neighbour,
We had not thought to stay
So long on earth to outlive thy birth
Into the heavens gay.
We had not thought to stay
So long on earth to outlive thy birth
Into the heavens gay.
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And yet, if we were wiser,
We should deeply thankful be
That the heaven abiding our coming
Is henceforth the richer with thee;
We should deeply thankful be
That the heaven abiding our coming
Is henceforth the richer with thee;
For when it opens around us,
And we breathe its welcoming air,
It will take us in with a happier smile
For thy sweet presence there.
And we breathe its welcoming air,
It will take us in with a happier smile
For thy sweet presence there.
February, 1879.
| Poems by Henry Septimus Sutton | |