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Across the River WHEN for me the silent oar Parts the Silent River, And I stand upon the shore Of the strange Forever, Shall I miss the loved and known? Shah I vainly seek mine own? Mid the crowd that come to meet Spirits sin-forgiven, — Listening to their echoing feet Down the streets of heaven, — Shall I know a footstep near That I listen, wait for here? Then will one approach the brink With a hand extended, One whose thoughts I loved to think Ere the veil was tended; Saying, "Welcome! we have died, And again are side by side?" Saying, "I will go with thee, That thou be not lonely, To yon hills of mystery: I have waited only Until now, to climb with thee Yonder hills of mystery." Can the bonds that make us here Know ourselves immortal, Drop away, like foliage sear, At life's inner portal? What is holiest below Must forever live and grow. I shall love the angels well, After I have found them In the mansions where they dwell, With the glory round them: But at first, without surprise, Let me look in human eyes. Step by step our feet must go Up the holy mountain; Drop by drop, within us flow, Life's unfailing fountain. Angels sing with crowns that burn; We shah have our song to learn. He who on our earthly path Bids us help each other — Who his Well-beloved hath Made our Elder Brother — Will but clasp the chain of love Closer, when we meet above. Therefore dread I not to go O'er the Silent River. Death, thy hastening oar I know; Bear me, thou Life-giver, Through the waters, to the shore, Where mine own have gone before! Lucy Larcom's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1252 |
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