Poems (Gifford)/"Go, Bury thy Sorrow"
"GO, BURY THY SORROW."
They are so precious to us, earth's sweet joys,
But oh, they fade, they die, and then, ah, then,
They are sore sorrows, we must bury them,
Hide them away so that they be not seen,
Or they will soon become offensive things
To all around. Then, though our buried griefs
Be evidenced by grave-mounds in the life
That tell all silently of anguish deep,
Well is it that, like grass on graves will grow
Peace evergreen, and we may plant thereon
Love's fairest flowers, and see them flourishing.
And we may raise enduring monuments
Inscribed with words of resurrection hope;
While ever in our hearts sure mercies stand
Like waving trees above our mournfulness.
But oh, they fade, they die, and then, ah, then,
They are sore sorrows, we must bury them,
Hide them away so that they be not seen,
Or they will soon become offensive things
To all around. Then, though our buried griefs
Be evidenced by grave-mounds in the life
That tell all silently of anguish deep,
Well is it that, like grass on graves will grow
Peace evergreen, and we may plant thereon
Love's fairest flowers, and see them flourishing.
And we may raise enduring monuments
Inscribed with words of resurrection hope;
While ever in our hearts sure mercies stand
Like waving trees above our mournfulness.
Our cemeteries should be beautiful;
So may the living walk among the tombs
With chastened gladness, reading even there
Of living joys that ne'er shall buried be.
So may the living walk among the tombs
With chastened gladness, reading even there
Of living joys that ne'er shall buried be.