Lays from the West Part 20

Oh, thou whose poet-mind can feel The magic spell of beauty's powers Let these, His "meaner works" reveal That fairer life that shall be ours.

Where we shall find in fadeless bloom The love Time's withering blast had slain, Restored from death and from the tomb To life, immortal life again.

And while we weep for earth-joys fled, Or sigh to feel ourselves "alone,"

While fragrant memories of the dead, Like perfumes round our path are strewn; Let us not think them wholly lost;-- These flowers that glad the wondering vision, Slept 'neath the winter storm and frost Then sprung to beauty half Elysian.

Fair blossoms deck the orchard bough The promise-fruit of harvest hours; Nought have we but that promise now, Yet faith already shows it ours.

Oh! sweet the light around our tombs, Where promise-buds in faith are sown; Faith's eye descerns eternal blooms, In stature of G.o.d's fullness blown.

Still ours--the true and tender heart,-- The form that trod these paths awhile; We said "good-night" content to part Until the morning light shall s.h.i.+ne.

Oh! blessed hope! Oh! promise sweet The harvest of the Lord is sure; His Hand shall give the guerdon meet To all that to the end endure!