O DOTH it walk-- that spirit bright and pure, And may it disembodied, ever come Back to this earth? I do not, dare not hope, A reappearance of that kindest eye, Or of that smoothest cheek or sweetest voice, -- But can she see my tears, when I, alone, Weep by her grave? and may she leave the throng Where angels minister and saints adore, To visit this sad earth! When, as the nights Of fireside winter gather chilly round, I kiss our little child, and lay me down Upon a widowed pillow, doth she leave Those glorious, holy, heavenly essences, Those sacred perfumes round the throne on high, To keep a watch on me? and upon ours? --Her I did love, and I was loved again, -- And had it been my mortal lot, instead, I would, were I accepted, ask my God, For one more look upon my wife and child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAST LINES OF THOMAS INGOLDSBY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE KING'S JEWEL by PHOEBE CARY THE YEAR'S AWAKENING by THOMAS HARDY THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 129 by ALFRED TENNYSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 93. AL-NOOR by EDWIN ARNOLD FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: MOURNER'S CONSOLED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |