 | Poems of home and country |  |
HARRIET J. WARDWELL.
Brought home, where the dust of her kindred reposes,
To sleep 'mid the dew, and the breath of the roses,
In June,—of all seasons the sweetest and fairest,
Herself, of its blossoms the purest and rarest.
To sleep 'mid the dew, and the breath of the roses,
In June,—of all seasons the sweetest and fairest,
Herself, of its blossoms the purest and rarest.
She sleeps her last sleep, while all nature rejoices,
And melody breaks from earth's thousands of voices;
Like distant sweet chimes on evening winds singing,
The music she breathed is in echoes still ringing.
And melody breaks from earth's thousands of voices;
Like distant sweet chimes on evening winds singing,
The music she breathed is in echoes still ringing.
Life's silver cord loosed, and the golden bowl broken,—
We bow to the mandate Jehovah has spoken;
God's promise proclaims, o'er the loved and lamented,
The silver cord, loosed, shall again be cemented.
We bow to the mandate Jehovah has spoken;
God's promise proclaims, o'er the loved and lamented,
The silver cord, loosed, shall again be cemented.
We lay her in love 'neath the rose and the willow;
Peace sits by her ashes,—Peace breathes round her pillow.
How well that such graces and gifts should be given,
Like precious first fruits, an offering to Heaven!
Peace sits by her ashes,—Peace breathes round her pillow.
75
Like precious first fruits, an offering to Heaven!
God gave, and we bless Him; God took, and though parted,
Still trusting, still loving, we yield, broken-hearted.
Again, in the home of the blest, we shall greet her,
And youth bloom immortal, when, joyful, we meet her.
Still trusting, still loving, we yield, broken-hearted.
Again, in the home of the blest, we shall greet her,
And youth bloom immortal, when, joyful, we meet her.
| Poems of home and country | |