THE SONG OF A GLORIFIED SPIRIT
A youth knelt down by a new made grave Unseen by the world, and wept;— A sister whose beauty no love could save Beneath in the darkness slept.
’Twas a calm, sweet eve, and on hill and plain The summer had lavished her dower; But the full sad heart of the youth could gain No solace from sun or flower.
The big warm tears he wiped from his cheek, As he said with a struggling faith, “O God, if I could but hear her speak!— My sister! now thine, O death!”
In silence and sorrow he lingered long, And just as he rose to depart, In the heavens was warbled this saintly song, Which fell like a balm on his heart:
“Beautiful are my walks in the sky, Beautiful, beautiful! Here the amaranths never die, Here the sweet winds murmur and sigh, Beautiful, beautiful!
“Joyfully glide my golden hours, Joyfully, joyfully! Here the leaves of the hyacinth flowers Whisper around my love-lit bowers: Joyfully, joyfully!
“Lovingly smile my comrades here, Lovingly, lovingly! All the bright shapes of this blissful sphere Tell how that each unto each is dear, Lovingly, lovingly!