 | Claribel and Other Poems |  |
170
A FUNERAL HYMN
Why are your spirits sad?
Why is't ye weep,
When the Weak and Pain-wearied
Are bosom'd in sleep?
Hush! lest ye vex the Tired with your rude cries:
In the calm home of Death there are no agonies.
Why do ye weep?
Why is't ye weep,
When the Weak and Pain-wearied
Are bosom'd in sleep?
Hush! lest ye vex the Tired with your rude cries:
In the calm home of Death there are no agonies.
Why do ye weep?
Why are your hearts unstrung?
Why are ye dull?
Though our Lost was so young,
And is beautiful.
Whom God best loveth he first calleth home:
Wouldst thou detain the summon'd through long years to roam,
To toil and weep?
Why are ye dull?
Though our Lost was so young,
And is beautiful.
Whom God best loveth he first calleth home:
Wouldst thou detain the summon'd through long years to roam,
To toil and weep?
Why mourn ye thanklessly?
Toil needeth rest,—
Pain asketh remedy,—
‘Friends! death is best.’
Better to strew his pillow with green praise
Than pile on his sere heart the snow of evil days!
Then ye might weep.
Toil needeth rest,—
Pain asketh remedy,—
‘Friends! death is best.’
171
Than pile on his sere heart the snow of evil days!
Then ye might weep.
Mourn not what we have lost!
What hath he won?
Love ever smileth most.
Where he is gone,
There shall we follow. Joy that he hath gain'd
God's blessed peace so soon, that he is first unchain'd.
How can ye weep?
What hath he won?
Love ever smileth most.
Where he is gone,
There shall we follow. Joy that he hath gain'd
God's blessed peace so soon, that he is first unchain'd.
How can ye weep?
Why are your spirits sad?
He is at rest.
O, be ye calmly glad!
Wrong not the Blest!
What though we see him not, though life is dim?
Hope sits with us in the shade, bearing one wish from him—
‘Friends! do not weep!’
He is at rest.
O, be ye calmly glad!
Wrong not the Blest!
What though we see him not, though life is dim?
Hope sits with us in the shade, bearing one wish from him—
‘Friends! do not weep!’
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