Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/485

Rh With slow feet treading reverently
 * The graveyard’s springing grass.

Make room, O mourning ones, for me,
 * Where, like the friends of Paul,

That you no more her face shall see
 * You sorrow most of all.

Her path shall brighten more and more
 * Unto the perfect day;

She cannot fail of peace who bore
 * Such peace with her away.

O sweet, calm face that seemed to wear
 * The look of sins forgiven!

O voice of prayer that seemed to bear
 * Our own needs up to heaven!

How reverent in our midst she stood,
 * Or knelt in grateful praise!

What grace of Christian womanhood
 * Was in her household ways!

For still her holy living meant
 * No duty left undone;

The heavenly and the human blent
 * Their kindred loves in one.

And if her life small leisure found
 * For feasting ear and eye,

And Pleasure, on her daily round,
 * She passed unpausing by,

Yet with her went a secret sense
 * Of all things sweet and fair,

And Beauty’s gracious providence
 * Refreshed her unaware.

She kept her line of rectitude
 * With love’s unconscious ease;

Her kindly instincts understood
 * All gentle courtesies.

An inborn charm of graciousness
 * Made sweet her smile and tone,

And glorified her farm-wife dress
 * With beauty not its own.

The dear Lord’s best interpreters
 * Are humble human souls;

The Gospel of a life like hers
 * Is more than books or scrolls.

From scheme and creed the light goes out,
 * The saintly fact survives;

The blessed Master none can doubt
 * Revealed in holy lives.