Classic Poem

CONSOLATION

I.

Look up, look up, and weep not so, thy darling is not dead,
His sinless soul is cleaving now yon sky's empurpled bed;
His spirit drinks new life and light 'mid bowers of endless bloom;
It is but perishable stuff that moulders in the tomb.
Then hush, oh! hush the swelling sigh, and dry the idle tear!
Look out upon that glorious Heaven, and joy that he is there!

II.

Already hath he gained the goal, and tasted of the bliss,
The peace that God's pervading love prepares for souls like his;
He hovers round the Throne of thrones on light and filmy wings,
The Ariel, of attendant sprites upon the King of kings!
Then calm thy sorrow-stricken heart, and smile away despair;
Think of the home thy child hath won, and joy that he is there!

III.

When summer evening's golden hues are burning in the sky,
And odorous gales from balmy bowers are breathing softly by;
When earth is bright with sunset's beams, and flowers are blushing near,
And grief, all chastened and subdued, is gathering to a tear;
How sweet 'twill be, at such an hour, and 'mid a scene so fair,
To lift thy streaming eyes to Heaven, and think that he is there!

IV.

And when that fatal hour arrives, the hour that all must brave,
Ere thy full ear of life be reaped and garnered in the grave;
Whilst deeply musing on the fate our prayers may not defer,
What ardent longings after bliss each failing pulse will stir;
How sweet will be the glance to Heaven — the Heaven thou soon may'st share! —
The memory of thy buried babe — the hope to meet him there!