Was it else one full of days,
Who had traveled darksome ways,
And was tired,
Who looked forth unto the end,
And saw Death come as a friend
Long desired?
Who it was that rests below
Not earth’s wisest now may know,
Or can tell;
But these blossoms witness bear
They who laid the sleeper there
Loved him well.
In the dust that closed him o’er
Planted they the garden store
Deemed most sweet,
Till the fragrant gleam, outspread,
Swept in beauty from his head
To his feet.
Still, in early springtime’s glow,
Guelder-roses cast their snow
O’er his rest;
Still sweet-williams breathe perfume
Where the peonies’ crimson bloom
Drapes his breast.
Passing stranger, pity not
Him who lies here, all forgot,
’Neath this earth;
Some one loved him—more can fall
To no mortal. Love is all
Life is worth.
THE SHEPHERDS’ VISION
Upon the dim Judean hills,
The shepherds watched their flock by night,
When on their unexpectant gaze
Outshone that vision of delight,
The fairest that did ever rise
To awe and gladden earthly eyes.
From no far realm those shepherds came,
Treading the pilgrim’s weary road;
Not theirs the vigil and the fast
Within the hermit’s mean abode;
’Twas at their usual task they stood,
When dawned that light of matchless good.
Not only to the sage and seer
Life’s revelation comes in grace;
Most often on the toiler true,
Who, working steadfast in his place,
Looks for the coming of God’s will,
The glorious vision shineth still.