Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature By Charles Mackay |
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GREAT-GRANDFATHER. |
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 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
154
GREAT-GRANDFATHER.
Children, I'm going home,
And the way is dark with Sorrow,
My hair is thin and gray,
And the night comes on my day,
But I shall be young to-morrow;
Younger than you, O children!
In the land without endeavour,
Where the blind recover sight,
And the Morning hath no Night,
And Love endures for ever.
And the way is dark with Sorrow,
My hair is thin and gray,
And the night comes on my day,
But I shall be young to-morrow;
Younger than you, O children!
In the land without endeavour,
Where the blind recover sight,
And the Morning hath no Night,
And Love endures for ever.
These eyes that see but dimly
Your long, soft, golden hair,
Shall pierce with keener vision
Than the falcon's in the air,
Through mysteries and wonders
That the tongue cannot declare.
Your long, soft, golden hair,
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Than the falcon's in the air,
Through mysteries and wonders
That the tongue cannot declare.
These senses long obstructed
By the weight and wear of Earth,
Shall feel a fresh unfolding,
And a new immortal birth.
My spirit, freed from trammels,
Shall know nor toil nor time,
But soar, for ever soaring,
Eternal and sublime.
By the weight and wear of Earth,
Shall feel a fresh unfolding,
And a new immortal birth.
My spirit, freed from trammels,
Shall know nor toil nor time,
But soar, for ever soaring,
Eternal and sublime.
These ears that scarce can hear you,
O joyous children mine!
Shall pulse to waves of music
That flow from harps divine.
Ev'n now angelic voices
Come whispering soft and low,
And I see the luminous fingers
That point me where to go.
O joyous children mine!
Shall pulse to waves of music
That flow from harps divine.
Ev'n now angelic voices
Come whispering soft and low,
And I see the luminous fingers
That point me where to go.
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Children, I'm going home,
By the way the Past hath trod,
To the place appointed for me—
To my Father and my God.
Children, the way is weary,
And the gate is dark and dreary,
But on the outer side
Are seraphs waiting for me,
To comfort me and guide.
By the way the Past hath trod,
To the place appointed for me—
To my Father and my God.
Children, the way is weary,
And the gate is dark and dreary,
But on the outer side
Are seraphs waiting for me,
To comfort me and guide.
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |