The Future Life

    The disembodied spirits of the dead

    When all of thee that time could wither¹ sleeps

    And perishes among the dust we tread？

    For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain

    If there I meet thy gentle presence not；

    Nor hear the voice I love nor read again

    In thy serenest² eyes the tender thought.

    Will not thy own meek³ heart demand me there？

    That heart whose fondest throbs⁴ to me were given—

    My name on earth was ever in thy prayer

    And wilt⁵ thou never utter it in heaven？

    In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind

    In the resplendence of that glorious sphere

    And larger movements of the unfettered mind

    Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here？

    The love that lived through all the stormy past

    And meekly⁶ with my harsher nature bore

    And deeper grew and tenderer to the last

    Shall it expire with life and be no more？

    A happier lot than mine and larger light

    Await thee there for thou hast bowed thy will

    In cheerful homage⁷ to the rule of right

    And lovest all and renderest good for ill.

    For me the sordid⁸ cares in which I dwell

    Shrink and consume my heart as heat the scroll⁹；

    And wrath¹⁰ has left its scar—that fire of hell

    Has left its frightful¹¹ scar upon my soul.

    Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky

    Wilt thou not keep the same belovèd name

    The same fair thoughtful brow and gentle eye

    Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate yet the same？

    Shalt thou not teach me in that calmer home

    The wisdom that I learned so ill in this—

    The wisdom which is love—till I become

    Thy fit companion in that land of bliss¹²？