Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments II.pdf/38



Strong as the death it masters, is the hope That onward looks to immortality: Let the frame perish, so the soul survive, Pure, spiritual, and loving. I believe The grave exalts, not separates, the ties That hold us in affection to our kind. I will look down from yonder pitying sky, Watching and waiting those I loved on earth Anxious in heaven, until they too are there. I will attend your guardian angel's side, And weep away your faults with holy tears; Your midnight shall be filled with solemn thought: And when, at length, death brings you to my love, Mine the first welcome heard in Paradise.