TWO PICTURES.

I see his face illumined by a beatific light, That tells me he is dying fast; the shadows of the night Are passing from his saintly brow and sunken eye away, But he looks beyond them and beholds a never-ending day. Nay, wonder not that I am calm; the fleeting things of earth Are passing with the flight of time, to their eternal birth: I feel that death will shed on him a halo like the sun, And I shall share it with him, when my pilgrimage is done. How quickly fades the earthly frame, and with it too, how fast The agony and sorrow of our mortal doom are past; And when the sight of worldly wo weighs heavy on the breast, How welcome is the voice from God, that speaks to us of rest! O! painfully the pangs of life his fading frame have worn, But blessed be our Father’s love, that dwells with those who mourn; And though the grave must rend apart our sweet affection’s bond, On this side is the night, but all is luminous beyond. I know that more he loves my soul than its transitory shrine, And did I prize the vase alone, when all it held was mine? Let hallowed dust return to dust, give Nature what she gave, For all that dearest was to me, is victor o’er the grave. Triumphant will his spirit rise to the Eternal throne, Triumphant wear a crown of light, by earthly trials won: And mid the friends who went before, the angel, sin-forgiven, Shall feel that they can part no more, when once they meet in heaven. True, I shall look on him no more, but he will gaze on me; Sweet thought! he from his holy sphere my guiding-star will be, Till purified; and hallowed from every earthly tie, I share with him that smile of God, which lights the world on high!

They tell me he is dying, yet I look upon his brow, And never seemed it half so fair, so beautiful as now; A radiance lightens from his eye, too lovely for the tomb, Too living, for the shadowy realm where all is grief and gloom. They tell me he will surely die—and so at last must all; I know that the Destroyer’s blight on all mankind must fall; Alas! that we of mortal birth thus hurry to decay, And all we fondly cherish here must fleet so fast away! But oh, not now! it is indeed a fearful sight to see The pangs of death their shadows fling on one so dear to me; Nay, speak not of another world, I only think of this, I have no heart to nurse the hope that looks to future bliss. Perhaps ’tis time; he is not formed for length of happy years, But wherefore darken thus my days with wild distracting fears? If we must part, oh! let me live in rapture while I may; Though hope must darken, while it lasts, let nothing cloud its ray. Oh, bid me cherish brighter thoughts; my loving soul can tell How sad will be the hour to him that speaks the last farewell; I know his heart is agonized by the approaching doom, I know he loves me better than the cold and fearful tomb! It is in vain they speak to me of bliss beyond the sky; This saddening thought afflicts my heart, that if indeed he die, The light that cheered my earthly love will seem obscure and dim, While he abides in purer realms, and I still live for him. I know that holier hopes and joys around his soul will weave, While he among angelic loves, unconscious that I grieve, Will ne’er look down to see me weep, nor breathe a single sigh; O, God! it is a fearful thought—and this it is to die!