 | Threescore, and other poems |  |
36
HER FUNERAL SONG.
Sadder than wont the neighbors came;
For she had sunk in giving life,
A youthful mother, loving wife.
The quenching of so fresh a flame,
The mystery of untimely death,
Wrought in us and more stilled our breath.
For she had sunk in giving life,
A youthful mother, loving wife.
The quenching of so fresh a flame,
The mystery of untimely death,
Wrought in us and more stilled our breath.
The mill near by had stopped its wheel,
A May sun warmed the open door,
And trees and flowers, the porch before,
Glowed with new life as they did feel
Athwart the air, beneath the sod,
The blessing of the eternal God.
A May sun warmed the open door,
And trees and flowers, the porch before,
Glowed with new life as they did feel
Athwart the air, beneath the sod,
The blessing of the eternal God.
37
And when the prayer within was heard,
A mocking-bird his voice upsent,
A lively, pure accompaniment.
Was it but music of a bird?
Was it herself who near them hovered,
From seeming death so quick recovered?
A mocking-bird his voice upsent,
A lively, pure accompaniment.
Was it but music of a bird?
Was it herself who near them hovered,
From seeming death so quick recovered?
Her soul was free, and joyed to well
Through the sweet bird's delighted throat,
With heavenly, clear, immortal note,
To break the gloom's too earthly spell,
On the hushed, shadowed, mournful throng,
Pouring her own blithe funeral song.
Through the sweet bird's delighted throat,
With heavenly, clear, immortal note,
To break the gloom's too earthly spell,
On the hushed, shadowed, mournful throng,
Pouring her own blithe funeral song.
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