 | The bells |  |
30
THE ANGEL.
O! memory, the painter!
Limns upon my brain
The faces of beloved ones
I'll never see again!
Limns upon my brain
The faces of beloved ones
I'll never see again!
There is one sainted picture—
O, fancy keep it near!—
'Mid golden hair, Madonna eyes,
Serene, and deep, and clear.
O, fancy keep it near!—
'Mid golden hair, Madonna eyes,
Serene, and deep, and clear.
We knew she was an Angel,
We knew she could not stay!
And long we waited tearfully
To see her fly away!
We knew she could not stay!
And long we waited tearfully
To see her fly away!
31
We knew that she was passing
Thro' life untouched, serene,
As far from earth's impurities
As Christ from Magdalene.
Thro' life untouched, serene,
As far from earth's impurities
As Christ from Magdalene.
The Angels wearied for her,
And so from Paradise
Death came, and kissed her tenderly,
His hand upon her eyes!
And so from Paradise
Death came, and kissed her tenderly,
His hand upon her eyes!
And as a flower at evening
Folds its leaves to rest,
She meekly crossed her whitened hands
Upon her peaceful breast:
Folds its leaves to rest,
She meekly crossed her whitened hands
Upon her peaceful breast:
Laid so white and beautiful,
So full of holy trust,
It seemed a shame to lay so pure
A flower in the dust.
So full of holy trust,
It seemed a shame to lay so pure
A flower in the dust.
We saw no seraph's pinions,
We saw no mystic things;
But going from our hearts we felt
An Angel's rustling wings!
We saw no mystic things;
But going from our hearts we felt
An Angel's rustling wings!
| The bells | |