The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey Collected Edition |
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“'TIS HARD TO DIE IN SPRING.” |
 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
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“'TIS HARD TO DIE IN SPRING.”
“A short time after this he was laid upon his sick-bed, when a bright sun reminded him of his favourite time of year, and he said, ‘I shall never see the peach-blossom or the flowers of Spring: it is hard to die in spring.’
“‘God,’ he said, ‘had placed him in a paradise, and he had everything that could make a man happy.’
“Yet eminently calculated as he was to enjoy such blessings, and nervous as his constitution was, he met the approach of death with composure, with gratitude and resignation to the will of Him whose beneficence had given, and whose pleasure it was now to take away.”—
Memoirs of Robert Surtees, Esq., by Geo. Taylor, Esq.
“'Tis hard to die in Spring,” were the touching words he said,
As cheerfully the light stole in—the sunshine round his bed;
“'Tis hard to die in Spring, when the green earth looks so gay;
I shall not see the peach-blossom.”—'Twas thus they heard him say.
As cheerfully the light stole in—the sunshine round his bed;
“'Tis hard to die in Spring, when the green earth looks so gay;
I shall not see the peach-blossom.”—'Twas thus they heard him say.
'Twas thus the gentle spirit—oh! deem it not offence—
Departing, fondly lingered among the things of sense;
Among the pleasant places where God his lot had cast,
To walk in peace and honour, blessed and blessing to the last.
Departing, fondly lingered among the things of sense;
Among the pleasant places where God his lot had cast,
To walk in peace and honour, blessed and blessing to the last.
While some, though heavenward wending, go mourning all their years,
Their meat (so wisdom willeth) the bitter bread of tears,
And some, resisting proudly the soft persuasive word,
Must feel—in mercy made to feel—the terrors of the Lord;
Their meat (so wisdom willeth) the bitter bread of tears,
And some, resisting proudly the soft persuasive word,
Must feel—in mercy made to feel—the terrors of the Lord;
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There are whom He leads lovingly, by safe and pleasant ways,
Whose service, yea, whose very life, is gratitude and praise—
Diffusive, active, kindly—enjoying to impart—
Receiving to distribute—the service of the heart.
Whose service, yea, whose very life, is gratitude and praise—
Diffusive, active, kindly—enjoying to impart—
Receiving to distribute—the service of the heart.
For such this ruined earth all through is not a vale of tears,
Some vestige of its primal form amid the wreck appears;
And though immortal longings oft in secret soar above,
The heart awhile contented fills its lower sphere of love.
Some vestige of its primal form amid the wreck appears;
And though immortal longings oft in secret soar above,
The heart awhile contented fills its lower sphere of love.
“God placed me in a paradise!” So spake his grateful heart,
As grateful still from all he loved, when summoned to depart.
Thrice blessèd he in life and death, to whom, so called, 'twas given
To pass, before aught faded here, from paradise to heaven!
As grateful still from all he loved, when summoned to depart.
Thrice blessèd he in life and death, to whom, so called, 'twas given
To pass, before aught faded here, from paradise to heaven!
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |