Classic Poem

Didst thou desire to die and be at rest—
Thou of the noble soul and giant mind?
Hadst thou grown weary in the hopeless quest
Of blessedness that mortals seldom find?
Had care, and toil, and sorrow, all combined
To bring that sickness of the soul that mars
The happiness that God for men designed,
Till thy sad spirit spurned its prison bars
And pined to soar away amidst the burning stars?

Perchance an angel sought thee, in that hour,
A blessed angel from the World of Light,
Teaching submission to Almighty power,
Whose dealings all are Equal, Just and Right.
Perchance Hope whispered of a future, bright
And glorious in its triumph. Soon it came.
A world admiring hailed thee with delight,
And learning joyed to trace thy deathless name
Upon her ponderous tomes in characters of flame.

Thou brightest meteor of a starry age,
What does the world not owe thee? Thou hast wrought
For scientific lore a glowing page;
Thy mighty energy of mind has brought
To man a wondrous agent; it has taught
The viewless lightning, in its flight sublime,
To bear upon its wing embodied thought,
Warm from its birthplace, to the farthest clime,
Annihilating space and vanquishing e'en time.

Didst thou look down into the shadowy tomb
And crave the privilege to slumber there,
Unhonored and forgotten?—thou, on whom
Kind Heaven bestowed endowments rich and rare?
Was life a burden that thou couldst not bear?
A lesson this to those whose souls have striven
With disappointment, sorrow and despair,
Until they feed on poison, and are driven
To quench the vital spark that Deity hath given.

And it should teach our restless hearts how dim
And erring is our finite vision here;
Should make us trust through humble faith in Him
Who sees alike the distant and the near.
When storm-clouds gather o'er us, dark and drear:
When lightnings flash and winds are wild and high,
No radiant beam of sunshine comes to cheer;
But when the wrecking tempest has gone by,
God sets the blessed bow of promise in the sky.