| They are all gone into the world of light! | |
| And I alone sit lingering here; | |
| Their very memory is fair and bright, | |
| And my sad thoughts doth clear. | |
| |
| It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, | |
| Like stars upon some gloomy grove, | |
| Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest, | |
| After the sun’s remove. | |
| |
| I see them walking in an air of glory, | |
| Whose light doth trample on my days; | |
| My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, | |
| Mere glimmerings and decays. | |
| |
| O holy Hope, and high Humility, | |
| High as the heavens above! | |
| These are your walks, and you have showed them me, | |
| To kindle my cold love. | |
| |
| Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just, | |
| Shining nowhere but in the dark, | |
| What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, | |
| Could Man outlook that mark! | |
| |
| He that hath found some fledged bird’s nest, may know | |
| At first sight, if the bird be flown; | |
| But what fair well or grove he sings in now, | |
| That is to him unknown. | |
| |
| And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams | |
| Call to the soul when man doth sleep, | |
| So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, | |
| And into glory peep. | |
| |
| If a star were confined into a tomb, | |
| Her captive flames must needs burn there; | |
| But when the hand that locked her up, gives room, | |
| She’ll shine through all the sphere. | |
| |
| O Father of eternal life, and all | |
| Created glories under Thee! | |
| Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall | |
| Into true liberty. | |
| |
| Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill | |
| My perspective still, as they pass; | |
| Or else remove me hence unto that hill | |
| Where I shall need no glass. |
