 | The lost pleiad ; and other poems |  |
THE SPIRIT'S YEARNINGS.
“Man must soar.”—
Young.
Young.
Send to me, from the realms of rest,
Some fond assurance of the life to-come,
And let me know if thou art with the blest,
Enjoying pleasure in that heavenly home;
And those sad yearnings, which are now i vain,
Shall never touch my broken heart again!
Some fond assurance of the life to-come,
And let me know if thou art with the blest,
Enjoying pleasure in that heavenly home;
And those sad yearnings, which are now i vain,
Shall never touch my broken heart again!
Tell me if friends are not to meet,
And know each other in that world again;
Where our embraces shall be made so sweet
That we shall all forget our former pain?
Oh! if it be not so, why do we crave
Such interest for the dead beyond the grave?
And know each other in that world again;
Where our embraces shall be made so sweet
That we shall all forget our former pain?
Oh! if it be not so, why do we crave
Such interest for the dead beyond the grave?
Why do we, as the mateless Dove,
Soaring away when all the rest have fled—
Leaving no traces of her flight above—
Seek out the regions of the longed-for dead?
If there is not, beyond the far-off sky,
Some home for Man where he shall never die
Soaring away when all the rest have fled—
Leaving no traces of her flight above—
Seek out the regions of the longed-for dead?
If there is not, beyond the far-off sky,
Some home for Man where he shall never die
Say, Mother! thou who now dost stand
At the right hand of God in Heaven above—
Drinking immortal nectar from His hand,
Fresh wafted from the Elysian Isles of Love—
Are we not destined, in that world of bliss,
To love each other as we did in this?
At the right hand of God in Heaven above—
Drinking immortal nectar from His hand,
Fresh wafted from the Elysian Isles of Love—
Are we not destined, in that world of bliss,
To love each other as we did in this?
Oh! if you did but know,
Soul of my being! what there is for thee
Laid up in Heaven, it would rejoice thee so,
That, rather than not dwell up here with me,
Thou wouldst, but only to be free on high,
Pray earnestly from this blest hour to die!
Soul of my being! what there is for thee
Laid up in Heaven, it would rejoice thee so,
That, rather than not dwell up here with me,
Thou wouldst, but only to be free on high,
Pray earnestly from this blest hour to die!
Come to thy mother, then,
My first-born! come along in Heaven to me,
And let us be united here again,
As we were once on earth, eternally!
It is your Mother calls you to your rest—
Come, loveliest! come ye to your Mother's breast!
My first-born! come along in Heaven to me,
And let us be united here again,
As we were once on earth, eternally!
It is your Mother calls you to your rest—
Come, loveliest! come ye to your Mother's breast!
Oaky Grove, Ga., May 10th, 1839.
| The lost pleiad ; and other poems | |