Poems (Kennedy)/Death

by Sara Beaumont Kennedy

For works with similar titles, see Death.

DEATH

       Be comforted,O frail and faint of heart who stand dismayedAnd trembling on life's crumbling brink;The road beyond the grave may not be long,Heaven may lie closer than we think.

       For it may beThat end of life is but the opening wideOf some shut door through which there flowsThe muted music of the universe—The breath of Eden, perfumed like a rose.

       What we call deathMay be in truth the swift and sure escapeAs from some loathsome prison-keep—The touching of a light-spring in the dark—The waking from a troubled, anxious sleep.

       Dread not to gropeAnd linger in some darkened sphere;A single step, and leagues of spaceAnd whirling worlds may be o'er sped,And God and soul stand face to face.

       The hand which slipsNerveless and chill from earthly clasp—The pulseless hand your living friends must yield—May be caught up (Oh, sweet and blessed hope!)By some dear lost one waiting unrevealed.

       Therefore, be comforted,O ye who've traveled to the end of lifeAnd stand, foot-sore, upon its crumbling brink;The onward journey is not long nor lone,The Realm of Rest lies nearer than we think.       Therefore, be comforted!