Sonnet
I gazed upon the silent burial-ground,
Where many forms lay mingling with the dust;
The gloomy shades of night had veiled it round,
And nought I saw to inspire a Christian's trust.
“Where are the forms,” I said, “that once I knew,—.
Of friends and kindred, whom I love so well?
Have they for ever vanished from my view?
Ah! who will come their blessed abode to tell?”
But, as I spake, I turned my tear-dimmed eyes
Upwards, where countless stars and planets roll,
Filling with splendors bright the wintry skies;
And, like a revelation to my soul,
Came, from their shining orbs, a voice that said,
“So come, in glorious forms, with Christ, the dead!”
Where many forms lay mingling with the dust;
The gloomy shades of night had veiled it round,
And nought I saw to inspire a Christian's trust.
“Where are the forms,” I said, “that once I knew,—.
Of friends and kindred, whom I love so well?
Have they for ever vanished from my view?
Ah! who will come their blessed abode to tell?”
But, as I spake, I turned my tear-dimmed eyes
Upwards, where countless stars and planets roll,
Filling with splendors bright the wintry skies;
And, like a revelation to my soul,
Came, from their shining orbs, a voice that said,
“So come, in glorious forms, with Christ, the dead!”
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