 | Poems by John Howard Bryant |  |
188
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. M.
When one so sweet, so fair, is called to go,
So full of goodness, truth and joy and love.
How hard the parting, even if we know
The soul has found a better home above.
So full of goodness, truth and joy and love.
How hard the parting, even if we know
The soul has found a better home above.
O broken hearted husband, sister, sire,
A rich inheritance is yours to claim,
Amid your yearning and intense desire—
The memory of her unspotted name.
A rich inheritance is yours to claim,
Amid your yearning and intense desire—
The memory of her unspotted name.
The memory of her love, that clung so fast,
And deeper grew 'till life's last flickering ray,
Unswerving and unfaltering to the last,
And looking heavenward as she passed away.
And deeper grew 'till life's last flickering ray,
Unswerving and unfaltering to the last,
And looking heavenward as she passed away.
Amid her village school, love took the helm,
No churl so rude but willing homage paid;
She ruled unquestioned in her little realm,
For love was law and all that law obeyed.
No churl so rude but willing homage paid;
She ruled unquestioned in her little realm,
For love was law and all that law obeyed.
Brave for the truth, unflinching for the right,
Yet timid, gentle, modest, meek, she stood,
Her glowing bosom filled with peace and light,
And aspirations, ever pure and good.
Yet timid, gentle, modest, meek, she stood,
Her glowing bosom filled with peace and light,
And aspirations, ever pure and good.
189
O deem not she has gone—forever gone;
But ever feel her gentle presence nigh,
In the soft light of every breaking dawn,
In noon's sweet sunshine and the night wind's sigh.
But ever feel her gentle presence nigh,
In the soft light of every breaking dawn,
In noon's sweet sunshine and the night wind's sigh.
| Poems by John Howard Bryant | |