I How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear; When floods of despair down his pale cheek are streaming, When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming, Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming, And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear. II Ah! when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, Or summer succeed to the winter of death? Rest awhile, hapless victim, and Heaven will save The spirit that faded away with the breath. Eternity points in its amaranth bower, Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lower, Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower, When woe fades away like the mist of the heath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 3 by EZRA POUND THE FIRESIDE by NATHANIEL COTTON ENCOURAGED by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 19. SILENT NOON by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI TO RICH GIVERS by WALT WHITMAN A CHURCHYARD SOLILOQUY by HENRY ALFORD |