Poems (Hale)/To the Memory of a Young Lady

by Mary Whitwell Hale

TO THE MEMORY OF A YOUNG LADY.

  Farewell! sweet friend, farewell!
Thine eye hath lost its light since last we met,
And on thy brow death's icy seal is set.
  Our mingling voices swell
A mournful requiem o'er thy early tomb,
Thou called to share its deep, unbroken gloom.

  Yes! it is well to weep.
The lost! the lovely,—claims not she a tear,
Whose smile was sunshine while it lingered here?
  Above thy dreamless sleep
Shall not the heart its gushing fountains shed,
Thou summoned hence, death's silent way to tread?

  But not in fear, unblest,
Through its dark chambers didst thou take thy way:
God's gracious presence was the beaming ray
  That led thee to thy rest.
One glorious guerdon fixed thy fearless eye,
The Christian's rest beyond the o'er-arching sky.

  Shall we bewail thy doom?
We the lone wanderers on time's wave-washed strand,
And thou, blest dweller mid the promised land?
  Ours is the lot of gloom:
O'er us thy tears of pity should be shed,
If they can weep the heavenly shores who tread.

  O! let our souls rejoice,
That thou hast joined that rich, harmonious strain,
Where perfect love and fadeless beauty reign.
  It was a Father's voice
Which called thee hence, beneath his smile to dwell;
In heaven, thy strain of holy joy to swell.

  Great Source of Faith and Love!
O! may we bow submissive to Thy will:
May each repining, murmuring thought be still.
  To Thy blest seat above,
When we death's yet untrodden path shall tread,
Thither, O may our wandering steps be led.