Classic Poem

FULL oft are we impress'd,
That this is not our rest;
Death comes, and cuts our list of loved ones less.
Once more I feel the blow,
Once more I droop with woe,
Another friend has cross'd the wilderness.

When in my poet-skiff,
Moor'd to the flowery cliff,
Faltering I stood, afraid to leave the land,
He trimm'd my little sail,
And bade me trust the gale,
Pointing to song-creeks on a genial strand.

And many an isle of bloom,
Delicious with perfume,
Discover'd I upon the sea of song:
Realms ringing with delight,
Flowerets for ever bright,
And trees than cedars higher and more strong.

And once, in waning June,
We wander'd 'mid the broom
Of my dear mountain, cover'd o'er with lays:
Admiring fern and flower,
High crag and mossy bower,
And cave, psalm-written, haunted by the fays.

The stream of solemn song,
Murmuring the pearls among,
He loved, and treasured up its wealth of sound:
And poet-notes he heard,
By Nature's fingers stirr'd,
Where solitude was ever holy ground.

And now he 's gone, he 's gone:
Thus drop they one by one,
Our early gourds, leaving us lonely here.
A few rough ridges more,
And we on Eden's shore
Shall walk with them, where all is fresh and clear.

At morn, at close of day,
On Nature's altars grey,
In the still wood, where frisks the sportive hare;
Or by the crystal rill,
Which works the village mill,
He offer'd oft the sacrifice of prayer.

As Christ's disciples should,
He lived for others good,
With quiet step pursued the heavenly way
Where'er his Master went,
His pilgrim steps he bent,
Till what was dark all open'd into day.

His light of love shone wide,
The Bible was his guide,
Jesus his pattern, had he ease or pain:
How true it is of him,
Now with the Seraphim
At God's right hand — he did not live in vain!

Like traveller long abroad,
Now on his homeward road,
With one dear image burning in his breast:
Toiling through cold, through heat,
With weary, way-worn feet,
Hope-urged; so look'd he for his heavenly rest.

To Christ's own cause was given
What he received from Heaven;
His gifts and graces aided Virtue's right.
Example, word, and pen,
Warn'd oft his fellow-men;
He woo'd them ever to the world's great Light!

Thus walk'd he stage by stage,
From youth to hoary age;
Then fell asleep, full ripe in well-spent years.
And now he rests above,
With Him he long did love,
In that dear land where there are no more tears!