TO THE DEPARTED by ANONYMOUS

I KNOW thou hast gone to the place of thy rest,
Then why should my soul be sad?
I know thou hast gone where the weary are blest,
Where the mourner looks up and is glad.

Where Love casts aside, in the land of its birth,
The stains that it gathered in this,
And Hope, the sweet singer that gladdened the earth,
Sits asleep on the bosom of Bliss.

I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is starred
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul;
Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marred
Nor thy heart be flung from its goal.

I know thou hast drunk of the Lethe that flows
In the land where they do not forget;
That casts over memory only repose,
And takes from it only regret.

In thy far-away dwelling, wherever it be,
I know thou hast glimpses of mine;
And the Love that made all things as music to me,
I have not yet learned to resign.

In the hush of the night, on the waste of the sea,
Or alone with the breeze on the hill,
I have ever a presence which whispers of thee,
And my spirit lies down and is still.

This eye must be dark which so long has been dim,
Ere again it can gaze upon thine;
But my heart has revealings of thee and thy home,
In many a token and sign.

I never look up with a vow to the sky,
But a light like thy beauty is there;
And I hear a low murmur like thine in reply,
When I pour out my spirit in prayer.

And though, like a mourner that sits by the tomb,
I am wrapped in a mantle of care,
Yet the grief of my spirit — oh! call it not gloom —
Is not the wild grief of despair.

By sorrow revealed, as the stars are by night,
Far off a bright vision appears,
And Hope, like the rainbow, a creature of light,
Is born, like the rainbow, in tears.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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