The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield In two volumes |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
|
| 3. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
MEMENTO MORI. |
 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
242
MEMENTO MORI.
Time takes its colouring from the spirit's shrine,
And season sad or gay,
And memory paints, in rainbow hues divine,
Scenes long since pass'd away.
And season sad or gay,
And memory paints, in rainbow hues divine,
Scenes long since pass'd away.
As hours are woven in the web of years,
The mazy threads are dyed
In the deep fountain of our hopes or fears,
Our passions, love and pride.
The mazy threads are dyed
In the deep fountain of our hopes or fears,
Our passions, love and pride.
And oft, while sunny smiles glance o'er the brow,
From the heart's depths will rise
Lone buried grief—as o'er a mount of snow
Clouds fall from winter skies.
From the heart's depths will rise
Lone buried grief—as o'er a mount of snow
Clouds fall from winter skies.
Through worlds of shattered thoughts and hopeless loves,
In lonely grandeur on,
The broken spirit uncommuning roves,
And weeps o'er beauty gone.
In lonely grandeur on,
The broken spirit uncommuning roves,
And weeps o'er beauty gone.
To the dark land of silence they have passed,
The young, the brave, the fair;
Ten thousand voices swell on every blast,
But voice alone is there!
The young, the brave, the fair;
Ten thousand voices swell on every blast,
But voice alone is there!
Where dwell their spirits? In the summer breeze,
Soft sounds are round us swelling,
And a still gladness fills the heart—but these
Can have no earthly dwelling.
Soft sounds are round us swelling,
And a still gladness fills the heart—but these
Can have no earthly dwelling.
Aerial music floats along the sky,
But comes—we know not how;
Wild airs to warn us that we soon must die—
And be what all we loved are now!
But comes—we know not how;
Wild airs to warn us that we soon must die—
And be what all we loved are now!
243
Dim broken gleams of momentary light
Mysterious glimpses give
Of that strange Realm of Souls, where all is night,
And shadows only live.
Mysterious glimpses give
Of that strange Realm of Souls, where all is night,
And shadows only live.
Oh! nothing can be known—man breathes and dies,
And nations pass away;
And empires perish—but yon far blue skies
Reveal no brighter day.
And nations pass away;
And empires perish—but yon far blue skies
Reveal no brighter day.
Not thus, howe'er, passed human life with thee,
Thou loved and lovely shade!
Thy spirit left dark Earth from sin as free
As when in glory made.
Thou loved and lovely shade!
Thy spirit left dark Earth from sin as free
As when in glory made.
And thou wert taken from the ills to come,
Like dew by morning sun;
And birdlike sung to thine ethereal home,
Ere sorrow had begun.
Like dew by morning sun;
And birdlike sung to thine ethereal home,
Ere sorrow had begun.
Oh, when, young orphans in our budding years,
Our world was in each other,
I little dreamed of vain unwitnessed tears—
For thou didst love thy brother!
Our world was in each other,
I little dreamed of vain unwitnessed tears—
For thou didst love thy brother!
I could not think, I was so happy then,
Thine eyes would close in death,
And I be left among the sons of men—
A being but in breath.
Thine eyes would close in death,
And I be left among the sons of men—
A being but in breath.
Yet, oh, I dare not grieve that thou hast gone
From this lone world of wo—
Hadst thou partaken of earth's sin, loved one!
I had not loved thee so!
From this lone world of wo—
Hadst thou partaken of earth's sin, loved one!
I had not loved thee so!
I bear thine image in my heart, and there
It lives, and breathes, and glows—
And thou shalt be my refuge in despair,
Till life's wild visions close.
It lives, and breathes, and glows—
And thou shalt be my refuge in despair,
Till life's wild visions close.
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |