"REST! Rest! -- the Hopia tree is green, And proudly waves its leafy screen, Thy lowly bed above, And by thy side, no more to weep, Thine infant shares the gentle sleep, Thy youngest bud of love. "How oft its feeble wailing cry Detain'd unseal'd thy watchful eye, And pain'd that parting hour When pallid death, with stealthy tread, Descried thee on thy fever-bed, And proved his fatal power. "Ah! do I see with faded charm, Thy head reclining on thine arm, The Teacher far away? But now, thy mission-labors o'er, Rest, weary clay, to wake no more, Till the Great Rising-Day." Thus spake the traveller, as he staid His step within that sacred shade, A man of God was he, Who his Redeemer's glory sought, And paused to woo the holy thought Beneath that Hopia tree. The Salwen's tide went rushing by, And Burmah's cloudless moon was high, With many a solemn star; And while he mus'd methought there stole An angel's whisper o'er his soul, From that pure clime afar, Where swells no more the heathen sigh, Nor 'neath the idol's stony eye Dark sacrifice is done, And where no more, by prayers and tears, And toils of agonising years, The martyr's crown is won. Then visions of the faith that blest The dying saint's rejoicing breast, And set the pagan free, Came thronging on, serenely bright, And cheer'd the traveller's heart that night, Beneath the Hopia tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RICHARD BOOTH TO HIS SON JUNIUS BRUTUS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A CASTILIAN SONG by SARA TEASDALE UNGUARDED GATES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FORERUNNERS by GEORGE HERBERT VORTICIST POEM ON LOVE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS BRUCE: HOW KING ROBERT WAS HUNTED BY THE SLEUTH-HOUND by JOHN BARBOUR |