Faith And Despondency
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- "The winter wind is loud and wild,
- Come close to me, my darling child;
- Forsake thy books, and mateless play;
- And, while the night is gathering gray,
- We'll talk its pensive hours away;--
- "Ierne, round our sheltered hall
- November's gusts unheeded call;
- Not one faint breath can enter here
- Enough to wave my daughter's hair,
- And I am glad to watch the blaze
- Glance from her eyes, with mimic rays;
- To feel her cheek, so softly pressed,
- In happy quiet on my breast,
- "But, yet, even this tranquillity
- Brings bitter, restless thoughts to me;
- And, in the red fire's cheerful glow,
- I think of deep glens, blocked with snow;
- I dream of moor, and misty hill,
- Where evening closes dark and chill;
- For, lone, among the mountains cold,
- Lie those that I have loved of old.
- And my heart aches, in hopeless pain,
- Exhausted with repinings vain,
- That I shall greet them ne'er again!"
- "Father, in early infancy,
- When you were far beyond the sea,
- Such thoughts were tyrants over me!
- I often sat, for hours together,
- Through the long nights of angry weather,
- Raised on my pillow, to descry
- The dim moon struggling in the sky;
- Or, with strained ear, to catch the shock,
- Of rock with wave, and wave with rock;
- So would I fearful vigil keep,
- And, all for listening, never sleep.
- But this world's life has much to dread,
- Not so, my Father, with the dead.
- "Oh! not for them, should we despair,
- The grave is drear, but they are not there;
- Their dust is mingled with the sod,
- Their happy souls are gone to God!
- You told me this, and yet you sigh,
- And murmur that your friends must die.
- Ah! my dear father, tell me why?
- For, if your former words were true,
- How useless would such sorrow be;
- As wise, to mourn the seed which grew
- Unnoticed on its parent tree,
- Because it fell in fertile earth,
- And sprang up to a glorious birth--
- Struck deep its root, and lifted high
- Its green boughs in the breezy sky.
- "But, I'll not fear, I will not weep
- For those whose bodies rest in sleep,--
- I know there is a blessed shore,
- Opening its ports for me and mine;
- And, gazing Time's wide waters o'er,
- I weary for that land divine,
- Where we were born, where you and I
- Shall meet our dearest, when we die;
- From suffering and corruption free,
- Restored into the Deity."
- "Well hast thou spoken, sweet, trustful child!
- And wiser than thy sire;
- And worldly tempests, raging wild,
- Shall strengthen thy desire--
- Thy fervent hope, through storm and foam,
- Through wind and ocean's roar,
- To reach, at last, the eternal home,
- The steadfast, changeless shore!"
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