If yon bright stars which gem the night,
Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,
Where kindred spirits reunite
Whom death has torn asunder here,
How sweet it were at once to die,
And leave this blighted orb afar!
Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky,
And soar away from star to star!
But oh! how dark, how drear, how lone,
Would seem the brightest world of bliss,
If, wandering through each radiant one,
We failed to find the loved of this!
If there no more the ties should twine,
Which Death's cold hand alone can sever,
Ah! then those stars in mockery shine,
More hateful as they shine forever!
It cannot be—each hope and fear,
That lights the eye or clouds the brow,
Proclaims there is a happier sphere
Than this bleak world that holds us now!
There is a voice which sorrow hears,
When heaviest weighs life's galling chain,
'Tis heaven that whispers, "dry thy tears,
The pure in heart shall meet again."