Мария Джейн Джюсбери (Maria Jane Jewsbury)

The Happy Spirit

  Weep not, my mother, weep not, I am blest,
  But must leave heaven if I return to thee;
  For I am where the weary are at rest,
  The wicked cease from troubling Come to me!

                                 Old Epitaph.

WHY do ye weep? to know that dust
No longer dims my soul?
To know that I am rendered just
A victor at heaven's goal?
Or weep ye that I weep no more
That sorrow's living reign is o'er?
Father art thou a man of tears,
Because thy child is free
From the earthly strifes and human fears,
Oppressive ev'n to thee?
Nay, triumph that thou bad'st me love
The rest, that I have found above.
My mother weep not tears will hide
My glory from thy view;
If thou hadst taught me guile, or pride,
Then tears of blood were due;
But thy fond lips spoke truths divine,
Rejoice, that now their meed is mine.
Sister, sweet sister, leave my tomb,
Thy loved one is not there,
Nor will its planted flow'rets bloom
Whilst wept on by despair;
I dwell in blissful scenes of light,
Rejoice, that thou didst aid my flight.
Let faith's resplendent sun arise,
And scatter from each soul
The clouds that veil its native skies,
The mists that round it roll;
Rejoice, that I have found a home,
Whence never more my feet will roam.
Tears for the dead who die in sin,
And tears for living crime;
Tears when the conscience wakes within
First in expiring time;
Tears for the lost but Heaven's own voice
Says for the Christian dead rejoice.

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