Heaven seems not half so far as in the town,—
Looking through smoke and dust and tears to gain
Some heavenly comfort for thy human pain,
Heaven seems far off, but here the dews and rain
Come like a benediction from the Father down.
Nor will He who forgets not any weed
That blooms its little life in forest shade,
And dies when it hath cast its ripened seed,
Forget the human creatures He has made,
Frail as they are, and full of infinite need.
Now like a sheaf of golden arrows fall
The last rays of the Indian Summer sun;
And hark along the hollow hills they run,
Invisible messengers, the battle-call
Of coming storms, in pipings faint and small
They bring:—the pageant of the year is done.
RESIGNATION.
If Thou who seest this heart of mine
To earthly idols prone,
Should'st all those clinging cords untwine,
And take again Thy own,—
Help me to lay my hands in thine,
And say Thy will be done!
But Oh, when Thou dost claim the gift
Which Thou did'st only lend,
And leav'st my life of love bereft,
And lonely to the end,—
Oh Saviour! be Thyself but left,
My best beloved Friend!
And still the chastening hand I bless,
Which doth my steps uphold
Along earth's thorny wilderness,
Back to the Father's fold,
Where I Thy face in righteousness
Shall evermore behold.
EUTHANASIA
"O Life, O Beyond,
Thou art strange, thou art sweet!"
—Mrs. Browning.
Dread phantom, with pale finger on thy lips,
Who dost unclose the awful doors for each,
That ope but once, and are unclosed no more,
Turn the key gently in the mystic ward,
And silently unloose the silver cord;
Lay thy chill seal of silence upon speech,
And mutely beckon through the soundless door
To endless night, and silence and eclipse.