THRICE blessed among women was thy lot Whose mien, whose face, whose eye, whose soul's pure fire, Our firstborn Christian singer could inspire Through his dark widowed days, when thou wert not; Who 'mid the piteous sights and sounds of Hell Wert a clear Star, guiding to Paradise, Till last, awaking to thy gracious eyes, After his weary wanderings, all was well! O spiritual stainless Love and pure, Who taught'st that yearning soul and voice to soar Beyond dread heights unscaled as yet by song! Here the slow ages labour, halt with wrong. For thee, for him, is joy for evermore, Blessing and blest, while God and Right endure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VILLA PAULINE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD YOUTH IMPERTURBABLE by CONRAD AIKEN WHAT I'VE BELIEVED IN by JAMES GALVIN A SONG OF COURAGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DREAM LIFE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |