 | Poems |  |
DIRGE.
So, from thee sense has fled!
So, in thee life is dead!
Brother, thou'rt gone,
Gone from the striving earth
Just when we knew the worth
Of what in thee had birth,
From us thou'rt gone!
So, in thee life is dead!
Brother, thou'rt gone,
Gone from the striving earth
Just when we knew the worth
Of what in thee had birth,
From us thou'rt gone!
No more to care for fame;
Cold, while we praise thy name;
Brother, sleep on!
Closed are thy busy schemes;
Done with, thy mortal dreams;
How poor each hope now seems!
Brother, sleep on!
Cold, while we praise thy name;
Brother, sleep on!
Closed are thy busy schemes;
Done with, thy mortal dreams;
How poor each hope now seems!
Brother, sleep on!
Not dust alone to dust,
Not to decay, our trust
Says, thou art gone;
Somewhere, thy parted soul,
Past this, our life's last goal,
Breathes on 'neath God's control,
Where thou art gone.
Not to decay, our trust
Says, thou art gone;
Somewhere, thy parted soul,
Past this, our life's last goal,
Breathes on 'neath God's control,
Where thou art gone.
Soft tears are in our eyes;
Round thee are tender sighs;
Brother, sleep on!
All lost to us thou'rt not;
Fear not to be forgot!
Love still shall be thy lot.
Brother, sleep on!
Round thee are tender sighs;
Brother, sleep on!
All lost to us thou'rt not;
Fear not to be forgot!
Love still shall be thy lot.
Brother, sleep on!
368
Well hast thou done in life,
Well faced the heat and strife,
Thou who art gone;
Striving thy days to fill
With work that seemed God's will;
Now He bids thee be still,
And thou art gone.
Well faced the heat and strife,
Thou who art gone;
Striving thy days to fill
With work that seemed God's will;
Now He bids thee be still,
And thou art gone.
Gone from toil, hope, and pain—
Gone from dreams, dreamed in vain—
Brother, sleep on!
What matters, 'neath the sun,
Not more by thee was done!
Now thou thy race hast run,
Brother, sleep on!
Gone from dreams, dreamed in vain—
Brother, sleep on!
What matters, 'neath the sun,
Not more by thee was done!
Now thou thy race hast run,
Brother, sleep on!
Yet, to the tender skies
Upward we raise our eyes,
Now thou art gone.
Where thou art, who shall tell?
Yet, where'er thou dost dwell,
Thou art gone where 'tis well—
To peace thou'rt gone!
Upward we raise our eyes,
Now thou art gone.
Where thou art, who shall tell?
Yet, where'er thou dost dwell,
Thou art gone where 'tis well—
To peace thou'rt gone!
To peace, or, it may be
New lives thy soul shall see.
Gold form, sleep on!
Yet, through all worlds, thou still
Wilt thy life's ends fulfil,
Toiling to do God's will.
Cold dust, sleep on!
New lives thy soul shall see.
Gold form, sleep on!
Yet, through all worlds, thou still
Wilt thy life's ends fulfil,
Toiling to do God's will.
Cold dust, sleep on!
O, while our hearts here make
Sorrow for thy dear sake,
Friend, who art gone,
Shall our hope all be vain—
Our dear hope, that would fain
Trust to know thee again,
Where thou art gone.
Sorrow for thy dear sake,
Friend, who art gone,
Shall our hope all be vain—
Our dear hope, that would fain
Trust to know thee again,
Where thou art gone.
369
Yes, we shall see thee there,
In other worlds more fair,
Still striving on;
There, 'neath another sky,
Thy soul its powers shall try,
Soaring, perchance, more high,
Where thou art gone.
In other worlds more fair,
Still striving on;
There, 'neath another sky,
Thy soul its powers shall try,
Soaring, perchance, more high,
Where thou art gone.
| Poems | |