| |
| “WIND me a summer crown,” she said, | |
| “And set it on my brows; | |
| For I must go, while I am young, | |
| Home to my Father’s house. | |
| |
| “And make me ready for the day, | 5 |
| And let me not be stayed; | |
| I would not linger on the way, | |
| As if I was afraid. | |
| |
| “O! will the golden courts of heaven, | |
| When I have paced them o’er, | 10 |
| Be lovely as my lily walks | |
| Which I must see no more? | |
| |
| “And will the seraph hymns and harps, | |
| When they have filled my ear, | |
| Be tender as my mother’s voice, | 15 |
| Which I must never hear? | |
| |
| “And shall I lie where sunsets drift | |
| Or where the stars are born, | |
| Or where the living tints are mixed | |
| To paint the clouds of morn?” | 20 |
| |
| Your mother’s tones shall reach you still, | |
| Even sweeter than they were; | |
| And the false love that broke your heart | |
| Shall be forgotten there. | |
| |
| And not of star or flower is born | 25 |
| The beauty of that shore; | |
| There is a Face which you shall see, | |
| And wish for nothing more. | |
| |
