 | Poems |  |
43
SEPARATION.
Oh! nevermore on earth, nor yet in Heaven,Shall I behold thee?—if the crystal light
That suns the palms of Paradise, is given
To my freed vision, when the awful Night
Of Sin's purgation closes, as—it must,
(For in God's Providence, we humbly trust,
Sin cannot be immortal) —even then,
Amid that multitudinous company,
That throng of thronèd Powers, and ransomed men,
O! nevermore thy saint-like eyes to see,
Shining too far above me in the dome
Of Christ's new firmament, would only be,
Companionless and lorn through Heaven to roam,
To walk the golden Streets, but not—of home.
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