MARY! I wake not now for thee My simple Iyre's rude melody, As once I touch'd its strings, With joyful hand; for then I thought That many years, with rapture fraught, Might yet be thine, which should have brought Fresh pleasure on their wings. But He, who gave thee vital breath, Sovereign supreme of life and death! Has visited thy frame With sickness, which forbodes thy end; And heaven-ward now thy prospects tend, And soon thy spirit must ascend To God! from whence it came. Well, HE is good! and surely thou Mayst well in resignation bow, And gratefully confess, That this, his awful wise decree, Though hard to us, is kind to thee; Since Death's dark portals will but be The gate of happiness. Then start not at its transient gloom; Let Faith and Hope beyond the tomb Their eagle glances fling: Angels unseen are hovering nigh, And seraph hosts exulting cry, "O Grave! where is thy victory? "O Death! where is thy sting?" For soon before Jehovah's throne, Thy soul redeeming love shall own, And join the sacred choir, Who to the Lamb their anthems raise, And tune their harps to deathless lays Of humble, grateful, holy praise; While list'ning saints admire. And oh! may I, who feebly wake My lyre's last murmurs for thy sake, With joy that lyre resign; Then call a loftier harp my own, Whose chords are strung to God alone, And wake its most exalted tone, In unison with thine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FORGETFULNESS by HAROLD HART CRANE HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND A WINTER PIECE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): AMOR OMNIPOTENS by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THE FALCON by GRACE UPDEGRAFF BERGEN SANDY STAR: 4. THE WAY by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |