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204

XXXIII
ELEGY ON THE DEPARTED

E se non piangi, di che pianger suoli?

O field of God, with grassy waves
Spread as a summer sea,
What peace is o'er thine inmates pour'd:
Oh that 'twere so with me!
There 'neath the holy Cross the sods
Her soul's fair vesture hold;
The ransom'd spirit borne meanwhile
To Jesus' happy fold.
But to my side, by night, by day,
The mortal arrow cleaves:
Earth's cup of innocent delight
A wormwood savour leaves.
I shun the seat whence oft we watch'd
The sunset rose the sky:
All Nature's charm before me flits
As o'er a dead man's eye.
In each fair spot a memory hid
The heart with torture sears:
The hills by those dear eyes last seen
I see through blinding tears.
205

Ah sweet Spring days by lamb-starr'd lea,
Fresh feathery grove, and glen;
All earth with three-fold beauty blest,—
For thou with me wert then!
Or where 'neath some tall cliff the sea
Her peacock bosom raised,
And smiled a bluer, tenderer smile
As by thy side I gazed!
Now o'er the lightsome skies a pall
Of rayless gray has come,
For with her going hence is gone
The sunshine of the home.
I dread the door where those soft steps
Have pass'd, and pass'd away:
The bedside where my Saint in Heaven
Bow'd low for Heaven to pray.
—O fond faint eyes that turn'd to me
In that last, bitterest woe!
O Love, Love, Love, my Love, my own,
How could'st thou leave me so?
Still o'er the lawn the star-eyed sky
Lets fall her silver tears:
The rose that knew thy tending hand,
Her heedless beauty rears:—
206

They reck not, they, that thou art gone,
Nor how earth's minutes run
While thy dear face withdrawing fades
As mist in morning sun.
O deeper than the deepest pang
The form from memory chased;
Love's empty vase with ashes fill'd,
The wound by Time effaced!
Sad years that dim the dear, dear face
As round your circles sweep!
Dearest, did I not weep thee now,
How should I ever weep?
Still to my side by night, by day,
The mortal arrow clings:
The fair fresh breeze of dawn may waft
No comfort on her wings:
The soft security of sleep,
The blessings of the night,
These sorrow-streaming eyes in vain
In vain to rest invite.
O Heaven on which my soul I cast
With all the force of faith,
From thy pure crystal depths reveal
That holy Spirit-Wraith!
207

Mother! be with me as thou wert—
Or if the heavenly place
Have wrought the change, the aureoled head,
Sure I shall know thy face!
The hand that almost o'er my brow
Breathed in its soft caress;
The peace on the fair forehead sign'd,
The step, the very dress:—
Smile as when once the tender eyes
Upon thy baby smiled;
On that pure bosom let me rest,
And be thy child, thy child!
—Ah, silence in that azure sky,
And on this grassy field!
And silence on thy lips to me
By law almighty seal'd!
Not here, not here, but where the Blest
Their crown of victory win;
Where the Redeemer and the Life
Welcomes His faithful in.
—What sudden voice the stillness stirs,
What low sweet loving cry?
About her Cross, lo! where the dove
Circles and sweeps on high.
208

O Mother, Mother mine, my soul
Mounts with the mounting dove:
Almost I seem thy steps to trace
To Heavens the heaven above!
—Thou first blest sign of peace to man,
Love's own sweet messenger!
Where my Saint sits, God grant me wings
To rise and follow her.
1891
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