 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
194
THE EMPTY BIER.
Thou empty bier, that standest here
Alone, by the church-yard gate,
Say, whose the door thou 'lt pause before
Thy burden next to wait?
Alone, by the church-yard gate,
Say, whose the door thou 'lt pause before
Thy burden next to wait?
The bier replied—“My range is wide,
And my hours of rest but few;
Yet, to One alone can the ways be known
That I must hence pursue.
And my hours of rest but few;
Yet, to One alone can the ways be known
That I must hence pursue.
“I first may seek her form, whose cheek
Is fresh in its maiden bloom,
On me to lie, with a rayless eye,
At the threshold of the tomb.
Is fresh in its maiden bloom,
On me to lie, with a rayless eye,
At the threshold of the tomb.
“The youth, who last sped by so fast,
With the nerve and the glow of health—
He next may find, that close behind
Death followed him by stealth.
With the nerve and the glow of health—
He next may find, that close behind
Death followed him by stealth.
“Or she, who smiled, when the lovely child
She was lately leading near.
With wonder stopped, and his lilies dropped,
To gaze at the sable bier—
She was lately leading near.
With wonder stopped, and his lilies dropped,
To gaze at the sable bier—
“That mother may be called to lay
That beauteous boy on me,
In his morning hour, like the dewy flower
He lost, and as suddenly.
That beauteous boy on me,
195
He lost, and as suddenly.
“Her own pale clay to bear away,
It next may be my lot;
She may close her eyes on her infant ties,
And her prattler be forgot.
It next may be my lot;
She may close her eyes on her infant ties,
And her prattler be forgot.
“As I must call, in time, for all,
From the babe to the silver-haired,
Thy glance at me, perchance may be,
A hint to be prepared!”
From the babe to the silver-haired,
Thy glance at me, perchance may be,
A hint to be prepared!”
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |