Poems (Sharpless)/In Memory of S. J. W.

by Frances M. Sharpless

IN MEMORY OF S. J. W. WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE SEVENTH MONTH 16TH, 1890, IN HIS 25TH YEAR.

Nay, Grief! stand aside; in the days yet to be,
   Thou shalt have thy full will;
Oh, Death! come thou closer, and answer thou me,
   Thou form stern and still,

Dost thou well thus to gather the purest, the best,
   In this garden of life?
To pass by the weeds, and the plants sore oppressed
   And broken by strife?

What imbecile folly cuts down to the root
   The most promising tree?
With the branches yet laden with ripening fruit,
   That men glory to see?

"Oh, child of the earth! He who gave may resume
   And none question why;
Yet gaze on my face, till thro' shadow and gloom,
   My soul meets thy eye.

"Not mine to destroy;—I but shatter the shell
   And the spirit is free;
Thou thinkest, poor heart, that thou lovest well;—
   As a drop to the sea,

"Is thy loving to His the wise Giver of death,
   When He loosens life's load,
And summons His child from the conflict beneath
   To the bosom of God?

"Encompassed by shadows, thou seest my face
   As an angel of doom;
Couldst thou view me aright in my heavenly place,
   What light would illume!

"The God thou hast proved thro' thy life, still will keep
   Thy dear dead evermore;
Then peace,—and in patient submission go weep,—
   For He will restore."