How dost thou fare in the high, silent skies? Dost never weary of unfading day? Have Time's divisions been all swept away, And dost thou reckon by eternities? Art young or old, dear face; childlike or wise? Hast gazed on those who have been blessed for aye? Art satisfied with Heaven as well as they? Or dost thou long for us in Paradise? Hath God wiped all thy tears away, my child? Of thy sharp suffering lingereth no trace? Earth-separation pangs hath Heaven beguiled? Clingeth no clay-touch to celestial grace? Ah! me, thy being how can mine embrace Since thou art there and I to earth exiled? |