 | Later Lays and Lyrics |  |
THE TRANCE.
I.
Mourners were mutely gathered round a bier,On which reposed the coffin of a child.
With hurried step and wildly-flowing hair
The mother came, and when the lid was raised,
Thus gave expression to her frantic woe:—
II.
“Make way! unfeeling crowd!Heart-broken let me gaze upon my dead
Before ye bear him to his narrow bed.
Fold back the shroud!
The wind shall kiss his pallid cheek once more
Its touch, perchance, the life-flush may restore.
III.
“Though pale that face,The wonted smile of joy it yet retains—
Too much of beauty for the grave remains
To hide in its embrace.
He sleeps as calmly in that box enclosed
As if within his cradle he reposed.
IV.
“Look on the sleepers now!His silken curls are by the soft wind fanned,
A rose-bud blushes in his little hand,
Torn from the parent bough.
Though death hath made my bud of promise cold,
Where angels dwell the leaves may yet unfold,
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V.
“Spreading thy raven wing,Why blast the lovely long before their prime,
Ere they have felt the wasting touch of time,
Pale, shadowy king?
Why rob the casket of its precious gem,
And pluck the young flower from its tender stem?
VI.
“Blight with thy breathThe aged pilgrim in this vale of tears,
Whose form is bending with the weight of years,
Insatiate tyrant, Death!
Snatch not the infant from its mother's breast,
Lifeless and cold beneath the sod to rest.
VIII.
“Lo! I am childless left!The staff on which I hoped to lean is gone;
Through life alone I now shall journey on,
Of all I loved bereft.
One spirit more hath left the earth to dwell
With kindred souls. My stricken flower farewell!”
IX.
“Mother!” he faintly cries.Perchance it was a vagary of the brain—
It cannot be!—those pale lips move again,
And open are his eyes!
With the life-flush his cheek is growing red—
“My cup of joy is full—he is not dead!”
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