Poems (Edwards)/The Last Dream
THE LAST DREAM.
It was a darkened chamber. Lightly movedThe silent watchers round the Sleeper's bed,And gazed upon her with a love too deep,Too strong for utterance. Silently she layIn hushed and holy slumber. Soft and lowThe quick breath fluttered on her pale white lipsLike a caged bird that struggles to be freeFrom its close thraldom. Ever and anonA crystal tear from her fringed eyelids stole,And, like a dewdrop, trembled on her cheek,That lay in its dim beauty, as a leafShook by the rude breath of the summer breezeFrom the sweet lily's bosom,—lovelier in its fallThan in its early freshness. Rich, dark curlsLay on her snow-white pillow, shading softlyThe deadly paleness of her languid face;They fell in graceful ringlets round her brow, That, white as polished ivory, reposedIn its calm beauty on one wasted hand,Which, through the ringlets of her dark hair, gleamedLike alabaster. Death, stern death was there,Upon that lovely Sleeper. Even thereUpon that calm white brow and faded cheek,His signet he was sealing. Yet a smile—A smile of radiant beauty wreathed her lips,And joy was in her bosom; for her dreamsWere of her loved and lost ones. Night by nightTheir shrouded forms had gathered round her bed,With their low whispers calling her awayTo their veiled homes, far in the spirit land. Gently her lips movedWith a scarce breathed murmur; and the thoughtsThat long had filled her bosom now gushed forthIn low and plaintive numbers.
"From whence do ye come, ye shrouded band, From whence do ye come, ah! say,Have ye left your homes in the spirit-land, Around my couch to stray?
Ye are whispering memories of old, Ye are telling of other days,And I know, aye, I know, that you love me yet, By your long and earnest gaze.
Say, where is your home, ye spirit band, Where rest ye when night has fled,Say where do you roam? Ye pass away, And I hear not the sound of your tread?
I meet the glance of your loving eyes, And T hear each familiar tone,But ah! when I wake from my nightly dreams, I am startled to find you gone.
I catch the gleam of your sunny brows As ye turn from my couch away,And I long to gaze on your forms again, But ye will not, ye will not stay.
From whence do ye come, ye fairy ones, When ye people my dreams at night;Do ye come, do ye come from the world above, From the glorious land of light?
I know that ye live, but I know not where, Ye gentle and holy band!Oh! guard me, still guard me, ye blessed throng 'Till I enter the spirit land."
Closer round her bedThe bright throng gathered, and with earnest eyesThey gazed far down into the Dreamer's soulWith more of joy than sorrow. Soft and lowHer plaintive lay they answered. And their songs,Unheard by mortals, pealed along the skiesIn sweet and tuneful echoes.
"Dreamer we are ever near you, Watching you with earnest eyes,Bending, with our love unaltered, From the portals of the skies.
Fondly we have gathered round you, Whispering to you through the night,With our low and solemn voices, Holy dreams of joy and light.
Loved one! we are with you ever, In your thoughts we love to stray,Breathing to you hopes of Heaven, Where all tears are wiped away.
Life with you is almost over, Your departure is at hand,We are waiting now to lead you, Upward to the promised land.
There, no doubt, nor pain can reach you, There no lowering cloud shall come,Heaven is opening to receive you, Suffering one! Come home, come home."
A change passed o'er the quiet Dreamer's brow,A change like morning bright'ning into noon,A smile of rapture played upon her cheek,And lighted up her face with such deep joy,That human love, with breathless awe, bent downIn holy admiration. One brief cloudOf untold anguish o'er her features swept—One bitter moment. And the Dreamer sleptThe "sleep that knows no waking." She had passedFrom time into eternity.