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THE FIRST SIGHT OF DEATH.
The first time I e'er looked on thee, Oh Death!
Thou hadst marbled an infant's tender frame—
The face was wan as a pale snow-wreath,
And shadowy as a vanishing dream.
Thou hadst marbled an infant's tender frame—
The face was wan as a pale snow-wreath,
And shadowy as a vanishing dream.
And my heart, my heart drank strange draughts of woe,
Sweet slumberer! from that vision then—
Beholding that cherub-head laid low,
Which might never, never be raised again.
Sweet slumberer! from that vision then—
Beholding that cherub-head laid low,
Which might never, never be raised again.
And yet though I wept—wept many tears
O'er thee, in thy placid stillness—there,
There was little of pain in my griefs and fears,—
Thou wert too calm, too still, and too fair.
O'er thee, in thy placid stillness—there,
There was little of pain in my griefs and fears,—
Thou wert too calm, too still, and too fair.
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Still I felt a religious, o'er-shadowing awe,
That crept o'er my pulses, and chilled my breath—
Yet I turned not—yet shrank not from what I saw,
Though 't was then I first beheld thee, Oh Death!
That crept o'er my pulses, and chilled my breath—
Yet I turned not—yet shrank not from what I saw,
Though 't was then I first beheld thee, Oh Death!
And I felt—to my inmost soul, I felt
The burdening weight of thy mystery;
And thy beauty, that froze my heart as I knelt—
A dreadful beauty it seemed to me!
The burdening weight of thy mystery;
And thy beauty, that froze my heart as I knelt—
A dreadful beauty it seemed to me!
The kings of the earth in their sceptred state,
Might not fill the mind with an awe so deep—
Nor around them bid such hushed reverence wait,
As that frail, that frailest Dust asleep!
Might not fill the mind with an awe so deep—
Nor around them bid such hushed reverence wait,
As that frail, that frailest Dust asleep!
Nor the leaders of hosts, in their triumph's hour,
In the pomp and the pride of their warrior might,
Chain down the soul with so strong a power,
As that simple, alas! that common sight;
In the pomp and the pride of their warrior might,
Chain down the soul with so strong a power,
As that simple, alas! that common sight;
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And this I felt, while I turned away,
To where the sunshine was glittering bright;
And met the flush and the gladness of day,
With a shuddering sense of undelight.
To where the sunshine was glittering bright;
And met the flush and the gladness of day,
With a shuddering sense of undelight.
And I looked on the blue, exulting skies,
With a sorrowing thoughtfulness, deep and still;
While the haunting gloom of those mysteries,
Lay on my soul with a hush and a chill.
With a sorrowing thoughtfulness, deep and still;
While the haunting gloom of those mysteries,
Lay on my soul with a hush and a chill.
Death! Death then became of the world a part,
To my altered feeling for evermore—
And schooled was my youthful mind and heart
In his ghastly knowledge, his shadowy lore.
To my altered feeling for evermore—
And schooled was my youthful mind and heart
In his ghastly knowledge, his shadowy lore.
And I bore away from that infant bier,
A memory to last through my after days—
To cloud my vision with many a tear,
With many a mist to distract my gaze!
A memory to last through my after days—
To cloud my vision with many a tear,
With many a mist to distract my gaze!
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And yet such memory I know to prize,
If it shadows this Life—oh, it hallows it too—
And it closelier rivets affection's ties,
Which I feel that the pale hand alone shall undo!
If it shadows this Life—oh, it hallows it too—
And it closelier rivets affection's ties,
Which I feel that the pale hand alone shall undo!
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