Poem by Bernard Barton

«Which Things are a Shadow»

I SAW a stream whose waves were bright
  With morning’s dazzling sheen;
But gathering clouds, ere fall of night,
  Had darken’d o’er the scene:
      “How like that tide,”
      My spirit sighed,
      “This life to me hath been.”

The clouds dispersed; the glowing west
  Was bright with closing day;
And o’er the river’s peaceful breast
    Shone forth the sunset ray:—
      My spirit caught
      The soothing thought,
      “This life might pass away.”

I saw a tree with ripening fruit
  And shady foliage crown’d;
But, ah! the axe was at its root,
  And fell’d it to the ground:
      Well might that tree
      Recall to me
  The doom my hopes had found.

The fire consum’d it; but I saw
  Its smoke ascend on high—
A shadowy type, beheld with awe,
  Of that which will not die,
      But from the grave
      Will rise and have
  A refuge in the sky.

1. Leiston Abbey
2. Verses on the Gateway Still Standing at Nettlestead, Suffolk
3. Benhall
4. Meditations
5. To the Owl

Print

1210 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version