 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
LAMENT FOR LILIAS.
Is there no power in love? Hath love no chain
Of linkèd strength to hold the spirit here?
Has earth no pleasant places to detain
One heavenly nature from its higher sphere?
Of linkèd strength to hold the spirit here?
Has earth no pleasant places to detain
One heavenly nature from its higher sphere?
Love was about thee, Lilias! from thy birth
Love, like an atmosphere, encircled thee;
A flower, almost too beautiful for earth,
That in our sight did dwell continually.
Love, like an atmosphere, encircled thee;
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That in our sight did dwell continually.
Our joy, our pride, our darling, our delight!
More precious in thy sheltering leaves deep set,
That shrinking timidly from common sight,
Bloomed but for us, our own sweet violet.
More precious in thy sheltering leaves deep set,
That shrinking timidly from common sight,
Bloomed but for us, our own sweet violet.
But oh! the fragrance that it shed abroad—
The incense that to highest heaven ascended,
From those meek virtues a heart-searching God
Loves best, with His dear Son's own meekness blended.
The incense that to highest heaven ascended,
From those meek virtues a heart-searching God
Loves best, with His dear Son's own meekness blended.
A Stranger came and coveted our flower;
Yet not a Stranger Lilias' heart who won,
And pressed, prevailed, and bore her from her bower,
To be of his the life, the light, the sun.
Yet not a Stranger Lilias' heart who won,
And pressed, prevailed, and bore her from her bower,
To be of his the life, the light, the sun.
Meekly she moved, with matron grace serene,
In duty and in love's enlargèd sphere;
And the heart blessed her—and the eye was seen
Warm glistening as her well-known step drew near.
In duty and in love's enlargèd sphere;
And the heart blessed her—and the eye was seen
Warm glistening as her well-known step drew near.
And thus beloved and blessing, was she blessed?—
So bounteously, that life could have in store
One only gift, which, crowning all the rest,
Would make her cup of happiness run o'er.
So bounteously, that life could have in store
One only gift, which, crowning all the rest,
Would make her cup of happiness run o'er.
'Twas granted: tidings came—“a child was born:”
Was there not gladness in the house that day!
Down sank the sun, uprose the merry morn,—
Pale, cold in death, the new-made mother lay.
Was there not gladness in the house that day!
Down sank the sun, uprose the merry morn,—
Pale, cold in death, the new-made mother lay.
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Oh! what a ruin—what a wreck was there
Of goodliest structure ever reared below!
Our Best!—our Beautiful as Angels are!—
Why wouldst thou leave us? Wherefore wouldst thou go?
Of goodliest structure ever reared below!
Our Best!—our Beautiful as Angels are!—
Why wouldst thou leave us? Wherefore wouldst thou go?
Hadst thou no power, O Love, the fleeting breath
The life of many lives awhile to stay?
Hast thou no power, O Love! to fight with Death—
To fight—to overcome—to conquer? Yea,
The life of many lives awhile to stay?
Hast thou no power, O Love! to fight with Death—
To fight—to overcome—to conquer? Yea,
Thou hast! thou hast! The fight, the victory
For us, the lost regained, is fought and won:
The grave can never hold whom Christ sets free;
We shall rejoin thee, loved and lovely one!
For us, the lost regained, is fought and won:
The grave can never hold whom Christ sets free;
We shall rejoin thee, loved and lovely one!
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |