Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LAST JOURNEY, by CAROLINE ANNE BOWLES SOUTHEY



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
THE LAST JOURNEY, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Slowly, with measured tread
Last Line: Take the soul home!
Alternate Author Name(s): Bowles, Caroline Anne


Slowly, with measured tread,
Onward, we bear the dead
To his long home.
Short grows the homeward road,
On with your mortal load.
O Grave! we come.

Yet, yet -- ah! hasten not
Past each familiar spot
Where he hath been;
Where late he walked in glee,
There from henceforth to be
Never more seen.

Yet, yet -- ah! slowly move --
Bear not the form we love
Fast from our sight --
Let the air breathe on him,
And the sun leave on him
Last looks of light.

Rest ye -- set down the bier,
One he loved dwelleth here.
Let the dead lie
A moment that door beside,
Wont to fly open wide
Ere he came nigh.

Hearken! -- he speaketh yet --
"Oh, friend! wilt thou forget
(Friend more than brother!)
How hand in hand we've gone,
Heart with heart linked in one --
All to each other?

"Oh, friend! I go from thee,
Where the worm feasteth free,
Darkly to dwell --
Giv'st thou no parting kiss?
Friend! is it come to this?
Oh, friend, farewell!"

Uplift your load again,
Take up the mourning strain!
Pour the deep wail!
Lo! the expected one
To his place passeth on --
Grave! bid him hail.

Yet, yet -- ah! -- slowly move;
Bear not the form we love
Fast from our sight --
Let the air breathe on him,
And the sun leave on him
Last looks of light.

Here dwells his mortal foe;
Lay the departed low,
E'en at his gate. --
Will the dead speak again?
Uttering proud boasts and vain,
Last words of hate?

Lo! the dead lips unclose --
List! list! what sounds are those,
Plaintive and low?
"Oh thou, mine enemy!
Come forth and look on me
Ere hence I go.

"Curse not thy foeman now --
Mark! on his pallid brow
Whose seal is set!
Pard'ning I past away --
Thou -- wage not war with clay --
Pardon -- forget."

Now his last labour's done!
Now, now the goal is won!
Oh, Grave! we come.
Seal up this precious dust --
Land of the good and just,
Take the soul home!





Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net