  ALL diamonded with glittering stars The vast blue arch of air; Pent in behind these mortal bars We strain our eyes to where, Oh noblest heart, thou walkest apart Amid thy heavenly kin. Though blinded with the veils of sense, We may not look within. Oh eyes so tender with command! Oh eloquent lips and true, Whose speech fell like a quickening fire, Fell like a healing dew! Oh zeal so strong to right the wrong, Oh rich, abounding heart! Oh stintless, tireless, kindest hand,— God bless thee where thou art! Not thine the common fate to live Through life’s long weary days, And give all that thou had’st to give Uncheered by love and praise. Men did not wait to call thee great Till death had sealed thy brow. They crowned thy living head with bays; What does it matter now? Thy grave mound is a shrinÈd place, Where pilgrim hearts may go, With loving thoughts and thankful prayers, Soft passing to and fro. Seldom with word the air is stirred, Seldom with sob or sigh; All silently and ceaselessly The march of hearts goes by. Now half our lives seems lived on earth, And half in heaven with thee. Our heart-beats measure out the road To where we fain would be,— Beyond this strife of mortal life, This lonely ache and pain, Where we who miss and mourn thee so May find thee once again. |
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