Classic Poem

I

Be patient and be wise! The eyes of death
Look on us with a smile: her soft caress,
That stills the anguish and that stops the breath,
Is Nature's ordination, meant to bless
Our mortal woes with peaceful nothingness.
Be not afraid! The Power that made the light
In your kind eyes, and set the stars on high,
And gave us love, meant not that all should die, —
Like a brief day-dream, quench'd in sudden night.
Think that to die is but to fall asleep
And wake refresh'd where the new morning breaks,
And golden day her rosy vigor takes
From winds that fan eternity's far height,
And the white crests of God's perpetual deep.

II

" His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be!"
So the wise poet, — wisest of mankind, —
In admonition that should make us see, —
Though half distraught, and in our misery blind, —
That our sole refuge is the constant mind,
The steadfast purpose, brave, and strong, and free,
To bear affliction and to be resigned, —
Knowing that ruthless Time will one day rend
The veil that hides the deep that all must cross,
And that th' eternity to which we tend, —
Made precious with the soul of many a friend, —
Is richer, lovelier, holier for our loss;
Where crown'd with peace, as with a diadem,
Our lov'd ones long for us, even as we long for them.