| |
| I CANNOT make him dead! | |
| His fair sunshiny head | |
| Is ever bounding round my study chair; | |
| Yet when my eyes, now dim | |
| With tears, I turn to him, | 5 |
| The vision vanishes,—he is not there! | |
| |
| I walk my parlor floor, | |
| And, through the open door, | |
| I hear a footfall on the chamber stair; | |
| I ’m stepping toward the hall | 10 |
| To give the boy a call; | |
| And then bethink me that—he is not there! | |
| |
| I thread the crowded street; | |
| A satchelled lad I meet, | |
| With the same beaming eyes and colored hair; | 15 |
| And, as he ’s running by, | |
| Follow him with my eye, | |
| Scarcely believing that—he is not there! | |
| |
| I know his face is hid | |
| Under the coffin lid; | 20 |
| Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair; | |
| My hand that marble felt; | |
| O’er it in prayer I knelt; | |
| Yet my heart whispers that—he is not there! | |
| |
| I cannot make him dead! | 25 |
| When passing by the bed, | |
| So long watched over with parental care, | |
| My spirit and my eye | |
| Seek him inquiringly, | |
| Before the thought comes, that—he is not there! | 30 |
| |
| When, at the cool gray break | |
| Of day, from sleep I wake, | |
| With my first breathing of the morning air | |
| My soul goes up, with joy, | |
| To Him who gave my boy; | 35 |
| Then comes the sad thought that—he is not there! | |
| |
| When at the day’s calm close, | |
| Before we seek repose, | |
| I ’m with his mother, offering up our prayer; | |
| Whate’er I may be saying, | 40 |
| I am in spirit praying | |
| For our boy’s spirit, though—he is not there! | |
| |
| Not there!—Where, then, is he? | |
| The form I used to see | |
| Was but the raiment that he used to wear. | 45 |
| The grave, that now doth press | |
| Upon that cast-off dress, | |
| Is but his wardrobe locked—he is not there! | |
| |
| He lives!—In all the past | |
| He lives; nor, to the last, | 50 |
| Of seeing him again will I despair; | |
| In dreams I see him now; | |
| And, on his angel brow, | |
| I see it written, “Thou shalt see me there!” | |
| |
| Yes, we all live to God! | 55 |
| Father, thy chastening rod | |
| So help us, thine afflicted ones, to bear, | |
| That, in the spirit land, | |
| Meeting at thy right hand, | |
| ’T will be our heaven to find that—he is there! | 60 |
| |
