9. Consolations in
Bereavement
{26}
DEATH was full urgent with thee, Sister dear,
And startling
in his speed;—
Brief pain, then languor till thy end came near—
Such was the
path decreed,
The hurried road
To lead thy soul from earth to thine own God's
abode.
Death wrought with thee, sweet maid, impatiently:—
Yet merciful
the haste
That baffles sickness;—dearest, thou didst die,
Thou wast not
made to taste
Death's bitterness,
Decline's slow-wasting charm, or fever's fierce
distress.
{27}
Death came unheralded:—but it was well;
For so thy
Saviour bore
Kind witness, thou wast meet at once to dwell
On His
eternal shore;
All warning spared,
For none He gives where hearts are for prompt change
prepared.
Death wrought in mystery; both complaint and cure
To human
skill unknown:—
God put aside all means, to make us sure
It was His
deed alone;
Lest we should lay
Reproach on our poor selves, that thou wast caught
away.
Death urged as scant of time:—lest, Sister dear,
We many a
lingering day
Had sicken'd with alternate hope and fear,
The ague of
delay;
Watching each spark
Of promise quench'd in turn, till all our sky was
dark. {28}
Death came and went:—that so thy image might
Our yearning
hearts possess,
Associate with all pleasant thoughts and bright,
With youth
and loveliness;
Sorrow can claim,
Mary, nor lot nor part in thy soft soothing name.
Joy of sad hearts, and light of downcast eyes!
Dearest thou
art enshrined
In all thy fragrance in our memories;
For we must
ever find
Bare thought of thee
Freshen this weary life, while weary life shall be.
Oxford.
April, 1828.