James Russell Lowell (Джеймс Расселл Лоуэлл)

* * *

  To the dark, narrow house where loved ones go,
  Whence no steps outward turn, whose silent door
  None but the sexton knocks at any more,
  Are they not sometimes with us yet below?
  The longings of the soul would tell us so;
  Although, so pure and fine their being's essence,
  Our bodily eyes are witless of their presence,
  Yet not within the tomb their spirits glow,
  Like wizard lamps pent up, but whensoever
  With great thoughts worthy of their high behests
  Our souls are filled, those bright ones with us be,
  As, in the patriarch's tent, his angel guests;--
  O let us live so worthily, that never
  We may be far from that blest company.

1. So May It Be, But Let It Not Be So
2. Song (Lift up the curtains of thine eyes)
3. O Child of Nature!
4. I Saw a Gate: a Harsh Voice Spake and Said
5. The Church

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1820

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