"Did ye mark when the maiden was hurled?
Did ye listen the horrible splash?
And, after this rage of the world.
Can ye hear now the cold water plash
About her? and see ye afar the dim sun
Setting sickly and wan at the deed that is done?"
I heard: but I now do not hear!
For I listen an infinite song.
Which is all in sweet tune on my ear
With the waves as they bear her along —
'Tis of joy! and yon light is no vision forlorn —
'Tis an omen, but less of the night than the morn!
This daughter of God hath been proved.
And what now, if so cast to the waves,
For awhile, for His sake, whom she loved,
I' this wilderness-water of graves.
She sojourns? awaiting the beautiful hour
When He comes with His kingdom and glory and power?
'Tis her body so sojourns! her soul.
Blessed ghost! hath sped over the stream;
And see, as the dark waters roll.
They bear on their bosom a gleam
Of her Eden — the shore where, secure from her woes.
Her sweet spirit abides in its happy repose!
Let me live in such faith! let me die
Such a death! let such music and light —
The glad song of the choirs of the sky.
The bright gleam of such robes washen white —
Mark mine end! and, like hers, let my body be borne
Down the river of night to the seas of the morn!
