Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of a Young Wife
DEATH OF A YOUNG WIFE.
Why is the green earth broken? Yon tall grass
Which in its ripeness woo'd the mower's hand,
And the wild rose, whose young buds faintly bloom'd,
Why are their roots uptorn? Why swells a mound
Of new-made turf among them?
Ask of him
Who in his lonely chamber weeps so long
At morning's dawn and evening's pensive hour,
Whose bosom's planted hopes might scarcely boast
More firmness, than yon riven flower of grass.
Yet hath not Memory stores whereon to feed,
When Joy's young harvest fails as clings the bee
To the sweet calyx of some smitten flower?
—Still is remembrance,—grief. The tender smile
Of young, confiding Love, its winning tones,
Its self-devotion, its delight to seek
Another's good, its ministry to sooth
The hour of pain, come o'er the hermit heart
To claim its bitterest tear.
But that meek Faith,
Which all distrustful of its holiest deeds
So strongly clasp'd a Saviour's feet, when Death
Rang the crush'd heart-strings like a broken harp,
That Hope which shed its seraph-benison
On all who wept around, that smile which left
Heaven's stainless semblance on the breathless clay,
These are the tokens to the soul bereav'd,
To gird itself invincibly, and seek
A deathless union with the parted bride.