Classic Poem

O, STAY thee yet, bright image, stay,
Fleet not so fast from this sad heart;
Cheer yet awhile my weary way,
Nor e'en with parting life depart.

Let Memory paint thee as she will,
Whether all blithe in childhood's smile,
Or with that look so meek and still
That wayward care so well could guile;

Or languishing like lily pale,
That waits but till the sunlight cease,
Then hides her in her dewy veil,
And bows her head, and sleeps in peace.

Most angel-like! I trust in Heaven
That yet some impress faint of thee
May to this wearied heart be given,
All sad and earth-worn though it be.

Who wears so bright a gem within,
How should his heart from God remove?
How can he change for toys of sin
The earnest of a seraph's love?

For well I guess,—and oft my soul
Holds tearful triumph in the dream,—
That when Religion's soft control
Lights me with pure and placid beam;

When I do good and think aright,
At peace with man, resign'd to God,
Thou look'st on me with eyes of light,
Tasting new joy in Joy's abode.

But in my dark and evil hour
When wan despair mine eyelids seals,
When worldly passions round me lower,
And all the man corruption feels,

Thou turn'st not then thine eyes below,
Or clouds of glory beam between,
Lest earthly pangs of fear or woe
Upon an angel's brow be seen.

By one alone,—thy sister saint,—
Thou watchest e'en in grief and ill;
Though on her couch of woe she faint,
Thine eye of joy is on her still.

For well thou know'st her every tear
Becomes a deathless gem in heaven;
To every pang well suffer'd here
A suffering Saviour's love is given.