Classic Poem

By the pallid hue of those
Whose sweet blushes mocked the rose, —
By the fixed, unmeaning eye,
Sparkling once so cheerfully, —
By the cold damps on the brow,
By the tongue, discordant now, —
By the gasp and laboring breath,
What! oh, tell us, what is death?

By the vacancy of heart,
Where the lost one had a part, —
By the yearning to retrieve
Treasures hidden in the grave, —
By the future, hopeless all,
Wrapped as in a funeral pall, —
By the links that rust beneath,
What! oh, tell us, what is death?

By the echoes swelled around,
Sigh and moan and sorrow-sound, —
By the grave that, opened nigh,
Cruel, yields us no reply, —
By the silent king, whose dart
Seeks and finds the mortal part,
We may know no human breath
Can inform us what is death!

But the grave has spoken loud!
Once was raised the pallid shroud;
When the stone was rolled away, —
When the earth, in frenzy's play,
Shook her pillars, to awake
Him who suffered for our sake;
When the veil's deep fissure showed
All the mysteries of God!

Tell us, then, thou grave of hope,
What is He that breaks thee up?
" Mortal, from my chambers dim,
C HRIST AROSE , inquire of Him! "
Hark unto the answering cry
Notes celestial make reply!
" Christian, unto thee 'tis given, —
D EATH'S A PASSAGE UNTO H EAVEN ! "