IV.
There the aged were waiting in life’s sunset tide;
And the young, they were there in the springtime of pride,
And the fair, whose soft cheek, with its beauty untold,
Bore the seal of the grave on its delicate mould.
V.
There was Misery’s tear, there was Gladness and Mirth,
There was Grief that bowed low at the desolate hearth,—
But the bright bow rose high up to heaven above,
And clasped all beneath in its ardor of love.
VI.
And I thought, O sweet emblem of glory and grace,
Of a Love that clasps all in its fervent embrace;—
Or the sunshine of life, or the gloom of the pall,
The living, the dead, it encircles them all.