Classic Poem

THIS is the parting place; yon turf-bound roof,
And marble door, where tenants may not hope
To enter and return. If earth's poor gold
E'er clave unto thee, here unlade thyself;
For thou didst bring none with thee to this world,
Nor mayst thou bear it hence. Honours hast thou,
Ambition's shadowy gatherings? Shred them loose
To the four winds, their natural element.
Yea, more, thou must unclasp the living ties
Of strong affection. Hast thou nurtured babes?
And was each wailing from their feeble lip
A thorn to pierce thee? every infant smile
And budding hope, full springs of ecstasy?
Turn, turn away, for thou henceforth to them
A parent art no more. Wert thou a wife?
And was the arm on which thy spirit lean'd
Faithful in all thy need? Yet must thou leave
This fond protection, and pursue alone
Thy shuddering pathway down the vale of death.
Friendship's free intercourse, — the promised joys
Of soul-implanted, soul-confiding love, —
The cherish'd sympathies which every year
Struck some new root within thy yielding breast,
Stand loose from all, thou lonely voyager
Unto the land of spirits.


Yea, even more!
Lay down the body! Hast thou worshipp'd it
With vanity's sweet incense, and wild waste
Of precious time? Did beauty bring it gifts,
The lily brow, the full resplendent eye,
The tress, the bloom, the grace, whose magic power
Woke man's idolatry? The loan is o'er,
Dust turns to dust.


Yet the lone soul retains
One blessed trophy; if its span below
Secured the palm of Christ's atoning love:
For that shall win an entrance when it stands
A pilgrim at Heaven's gate.