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The Still-Born
I saw one born, yet he was of the dead;
Long since the spirit ceased to give us birth;
For lust to sin, and sin to death had led,
And now its children people o'er the earth.
Long since the spirit ceased to give us birth;
For lust to sin, and sin to death had led,
And now its children people o'er the earth.
And yet he thought he lived, and as he grew
Looked round upon the world and called it fair;
For of the heaven he lost he never knew,
Though oft he pined in spirit to be there.
Looked round upon the world and called it fair;
For of the heaven he lost he never knew,
Though oft he pined in spirit to be there.
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And he lived on, the earth became his home,
Nor learnt he aught of those who came before;
For they had ceased to wish from thence to roam;
And for the better land could not deplore.
Nor learnt he aught of those who came before;
For they had ceased to wish from thence to roam;
And for the better land could not deplore.
Time passed, and he was buried; lo the dust,
From which he first was taken him received;
Yet in his dying hour ne'er ceased his trust,
And still his soul for something heavenly grieved.
From which he first was taken him received;
Yet in his dying hour ne'er ceased his trust,
And still his soul for something heavenly grieved.
And we will hope that there is One who gave,
The rest he sighed for, but the world denied;
That yet his voice is heard beyond the grave,
That he yet lives who to our vision died.
The rest he sighed for, but the world denied;
That yet his voice is heard beyond the grave,
That he yet lives who to our vision died.
Poem No. 260; summer 1839
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