Classic Poem

THROUGH the flowering meadows,
Through the forest shadows,
Through a land where, all day long,
Resounds the voice of mirth and song, —
Flows a Silent River,
Rolling on for ever;
Clouds of woe and wailing rest
Dark lowering o'er its livid breast.
Earthly sons and daughters,
Whelmed within its waters,
Swept away, are seen no more
To roam along the smiling shore.

'Mid the crowd surrounding,
'Mid the mirth resounding,
Mourners here move to and fro
In anguish round its silent flow.
Soon, forlorn and weary,
By its borders dreary,
Those I love so tenderly
Shall wander weeping all for me; —
Mortal eyes ne'er finding,
Through the tears so blinding,
Angel forms in misty shroud
That dwell amid the gloomy cloud.

Borne in endless motion
Towards the distant Ocean,
There the hearts now torn in twain
Shall meet and melt in love again.
There the mists shall o'er us
Rise, an Angel-chorus,
O'er the wave new glory fling,
And float aloft on golden wing.
There in sunshine glowing,
And to music flowing,
All the billows, flashing bright,
Shall clap their hands in living light!