 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
239
AMBLESIDE CHURCHYARD AT EASTERTIDE.
This vernal April day, without a cloud,
Of heaven reminds me, and of heavenly things;
The blue so tenderly above me bowed,
Thoughts of eternal calmness with it brings.
Of heaven reminds me, and of heavenly things;
The blue so tenderly above me bowed,
Thoughts of eternal calmness with it brings.
Here, in this place of graves, where lie the dead,
Whom earth so closely presses to her breast,
The mind is upward to the living led,
Within the everlasting arms at rest.
Whom earth so closely presses to her breast,
The mind is upward to the living led,
Within the everlasting arms at rest.
For this no spot to brood on death alone,
'Tis life that here is present to the thought;
Sweet consolation breathes from every stone,
And whispers peace to hearts with grief o'er-wrought.
'Tis life that here is present to the thought;
Sweet consolation breathes from every stone,
And whispers peace to hearts with grief o'er-wrought.
The grassy turf a bright embroidery wears,
Of fresh-pluck'd flowers strewn on the swelling sod;
But chief the daffodil the honour bears
Of lifting up the heart to heaven and God.
Of fresh-pluck'd flowers strewn on the swelling sod;
But chief the daffodil the honour bears
Of lifting up the heart to heaven and God.
240
Fair daffodils! whose pensive petals hold
The shimmering dews and drops of tender rain
Within your deep-fringed chalices of gold,
To shed sweet tears upon the earth again,
The shimmering dews and drops of tender rain
Within your deep-fringed chalices of gold,
To shed sweet tears upon the earth again,
Ye tell of love that stronger is than death,
Of faith that soars triumphant o'er the tomb,
And hopes ye give, the buried seed beneath
Shall break and bud into immortal bloom.
Of faith that soars triumphant o'er the tomb,
And hopes ye give, the buried seed beneath
Shall break and bud into immortal bloom.
O Christ, who lovest well each living thing,
Glory of flower and joyous grace of bird,
Let the world's winter melt into a spring
Which shall eternal blossom at Thy word!
Glory of flower and joyous grace of bird,
Let the world's winter melt into a spring
Which shall eternal blossom at Thy word!
In pity look upon this weeping earth,
Grave-covered, wet with many a mourner's tears;
Long has she travailed. Why delay the birth?
Give full fruition to the hopes of years?
Grave-covered, wet with many a mourner's tears;
Long has she travailed. Why delay the birth?
Give full fruition to the hopes of years?
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |