 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
THE CHAPLET OF PALMS.
An Elegy composed on the death of Huntington Lyman a beautiful little boy, who died, very suddenly, on the 10th of February, 1852, of Scarlet Fever.
“Why stand ye here gazing up into Heaven?”
—Bible.
—Bible.
Softly clasp to your bosom
This sweet bud gone to blossom
Up in Heaven—you must lose him—
You must lose what you thought far too pretty to die!
Oh! more tremblingly press him—
With soft kisses caress him—
Calling God down to bless him—
Who now waits there to crown him with glory on high.
This sweet bud gone to blossom
Up in Heaven—you must lose him—
You must lose what you thought far too pretty to die!
Oh! more tremblingly press him—
With soft kisses caress him—
Calling God down to bless him—
Who now waits there to crown him with glory on high.
In the Angle's embraces—
See! he smiles in their faces!
To the Heavenly Places
He now soars up aloft like some Dove from its nest;
Father—mother cease sighing—
For his soul is undying—
Unto God he goes flying—
Where the wicked cease troubling—the weary find rest.
See! he smiles in their faces!
To the Heavenly Places
He now soars up aloft like some Dove from its nest;
Father—mother cease sighing—
For his soul is undying—
Unto God he goes flying—
Where the wicked cease troubling—the weary find rest.
53
Bear him up, ye blest Spirits!
Into Heaven! for he merits
Those rewards he inherits
From his Father, his Saviour—for, oh! he was good!
Oh! receive him, blest Saviour!
For his Christ-like behaviour—
Lying low in his grave here,
Like the frost-bitten lily unblown in the bud!
Into Heaven! for he merits
Those rewards he inherits
From his Father, his Saviour—for, oh! he was good!
Oh! receive him, blest Saviour!
For his Christ-like behaviour—
Lying low in his grave here,
Like the frost-bitten lily unblown in the bud!
As he onward advances,
See the Angels in trances,
With the bright Excellencies,
Coming downward to meet him with Palms in their hands!
Now they press through the Portal
Of the Jasper-walled Court all,
With the Garlands immortal,
There to crown his fair brow where his Saviour now stands!
See the Angels in trances,
With the bright Excellencies,
Coming downward to meet him with Palms in their hands!
Now they press through the Portal
Of the Jasper-walled Court all,
With the Garlands immortal,
There to crown his fair brow where his Saviour now stands!
From the odorous abysses
Of their lips full of blisses,
They now feed him on kisses,
Till he swoons away rapt with the riches divine—
While with rapture ecstatic—
(Rich revealings emphatic—)
They pour Pæans pathetic
On his soul to salute him Christ's Cherub, as thine.
Of their lips full of blisses,
They now feed him on kisses,
Till he swoons away rapt with the riches divine—
While with rapture ecstatic—
(Rich revealings emphatic—)
They pour Pæans pathetic
On his soul to salute him Christ's Cherub, as thine.
In that City whose whiteness
Far exceeds every brightness—
(Sunning God's infiniteness—)
Darkening whole Constellations of Suns with its shine—
Stand my children, all vestal,
At the Portals of crystal,
Raining songs most celestial
From their lips on his soul as they hail him divine!
Far exceeds every brightness—
(Sunning God's infiniteness—)
Darkening whole Constellations of Suns with its shine—
Stand my children, all vestal,
At the Portals of crystal,
Raining songs most celestial
From their lips on his soul as they hail him divine!
54
These Elegiac Posies,
Mixed with white leaves of roses,
In his grave, ere it closes,
I will scatter, like snow, from my heart while it burns—
As an emblem undying
Of his mother's love crying
For his body here lying—
Whose untimely decease she forever more mourns!
Mixed with white leaves of roses,
In his grave, ere it closes,
I will scatter, like snow, from my heart while it burns—
As an emblem undying
Of his mother's love crying
For his body here lying—
Whose untimely decease she forever more mourns!
Tontine Hotel, New Haven, Feb. 12, 1852.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |