 | Good company for every day in the year |  |
BEYOND.
By JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.
WHEN youthful faith hath fled,
Of loving take thy leave;
Be constant to the dead, —
The dead cannot deceive
Sweet modest flowers of spring,
How fleet your balmy day!
And man's brief year can bring
No secondary May, —
No earthly burst again
Of gladness out of gloom;
Fond hope and vision vain,
Ungrateful to the tomb.
But 't is an old belief
That on some solemn shore
Beyond the sphere of grief,
Dear friends shall meet once more, —
Beyond the sphere of time,
And sin and fate's control,
Serene in endless prime
Of body and of soul.
That creed I fain would keep,
That hope I'll not forego;
Eternal be the sleep,
Unless to waken so.
Of loving take thy leave;
Be constant to the dead, —
The dead cannot deceive
Sweet modest flowers of spring,
How fleet your balmy day!
And man's brief year can bring
No secondary May, —
No earthly burst again
Of gladness out of gloom;
Fond hope and vision vain,
Ungrateful to the tomb.
But 't is an old belief
That on some solemn shore
Beyond the sphere of grief,
Dear friends shall meet once more, —
Beyond the sphere of time,
And sin and fate's control,
Serene in endless prime
Of body and of soul.
That creed I fain would keep,
That hope I'll not forego;
Eternal be the sleep,
Unless to waken so.
| Good company for every day in the year | |