44
LOVE AND DEATH.
And naught was there heard on his ruin-strewn way,Among those sad mountains, for many a day Save the wailing and the crying Of the stricken and the dying.
The father would stand where the glad sunbeams smiledOn cold features white of his dead little child,And say, in the deep tones of anguish and grief,Thus struggling to bring to his spirit relief."Waken, O beautiful beams of the morning! Oh, waken my dead from its strange deep repose!Oft have I listened to Death's fearful warning; My spirit is sinking beneath its great woes."
The mother, as Death cast its dark, fearful blightO'er faces once beaming with joy and delight,Her hands clasped in agony wild with despair,And said, while her tones thrilled the dense, stifling air;"Thou merciful God, who e'er rulest on high,Oh, look down on me with a pitying eye;Fling back these strange shadows that darken my life,And set my soul free from its wearisome strife;Or else let me pass to that sunlighted shoreWhere tempests of sorrow may beat nevermore."
