| |
| THERE is no death! the stars go down | |
| To rise upon some other shore, | |
| And bright in heaven’s jewelled crown | |
| They shine forever more. | |
| |
| There is no death! the forest leaves | 5 |
| Convert to life the viewless air; | |
| The rocks disorganize to feed | |
| The hungry moss they bear. | |
| |
| There is no death! the dust we tread | |
| Shall change, beneath the summer showers, | 10 |
| To golden grain, or mellow fruit, | |
| Or rainbow-tinted flowers. | |
| |
| There is no death! the leaves may fall, | |
| The flowers may fade and pass away— | |
| They only wait, through wintry hours, | 15 |
| The warm sweet breath of May. | |
| |
| There is no death! the choicest gifts | |
| That heaven hath kindly lent to earth | |
| Are ever first to seek again | |
| The country of their birth. | 20 |
| |
| And all things that for growth of joy | |
| Are worthy of our love or care, | |
| Whose loss has left us desolate, | |
| Are safely garnered there. | |
| |
| Though life become a dreary waste, | 25 |
| We know its fairest, sweetest flowers, | |
| Transplanted into paradise, | |
| Adorn immortal bowers. | |
| |
| The voice of bird-like melody | |
| That we have missed and mourned so long | 30 |
| Now mingles with the angel choir | |
| In everlasting song. | |
| |
| There is no death! although we grieve | |
| When beautiful, familiar forms | |
| That we have learned to love are torn | 35 |
| From our embracing arms; | |
| |
| Although with bowed and breaking heart, | |
| With sable garb and silent tread, | |
| We bear their senseless dust to rest, | |
| And say that they are “dead.” | 40 |
| |
| They are not dead! they have but passed | |
| Beyond the mists that blind us here | |
| Into the new and larger life | |
| Of that serener sphere. | |
| |
| They have but dropped their robe of clay | 45 |
| To put their shining raiment on; | |
| They have not wandered far away— | |
| They are not “lost” or “gone.” | |
| |
| Though disenthralled and glorified, | |
| They still are here and love us yet; | 50 |
| The dear ones they have left behind | |
| They never can forget. | |
| |
| And sometimes, when our hearts grow faint | |
| Amid temptations fierce and deep, | |
| Or when the wildly raging waves | 55 |
| Of grief or passion sweep, | |
| |
| We feel upon our fevered brow | |
| Their gentle touch, their breath of balm; | |
| Their arms enfold us, and our hearts | |
| Grow comforted and calm. | 60 |
| |
| And ever near us, though unseen, | |
| The dear, immortal spirits tread; | |
| For all the boundless universe | |
Is life—there are no dead.
1863. | |
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