Classic Poem

I stood by weeping
Yet a sorrowful silence keeping
While an Angel smote my love
As she lay sleeping. —

Is there a bed above
More fragrant than these violets
That are white like death?

White like a dove
Flowers in the blessed islets
Breathe sweeter breath
All fair morns and twilights.

Is the gold there
More golden than these tresses?

There heads are aureoled
And crowned like gold
With light most rare.

Are the bowers of Heaven
More choice than these?

To them are given
All odorous shady trees.
Earth's bowers are wildernesses
Compared with the recesses
Made soft there now
Nest-like twixt bough and bough.

Who shall live in such a nest?

Heart with heart at rest:
All they whose troubles cease
In peace:
Souls that wrestled
Now are nestled
There at ease:
Throng from east and west
From north and south
To plenty from the land of drouth.

How long must they wait?

There is a certain term
For their bodies to the worm
And their souls at Heaven-gate.
Dust to dust, clod to clod
These precious things of God;
Trampled underfoot by man
And beast the appointed years.

Their longest life was but a span
For birth, death, laughter, tears:
Is it worth while to live,
Rejoice and grieve,
Hope, fear and die?
Man with man, lie with lie,
The slow show dwindles by:
At last what shall we have
Besides a grave?

Lies and shows no more,
No fear, no pain,
But after hope and sleep
Dear joys again.
Those who sowed shall reap:
Those who bore
The cross shall wear the crown:
Those who clomb the steep
There shall sit down.
The Shepherd of the sheep
Feeds His flock there;