Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 42 1834.pdf/10



Not long thy voice amongst us may be heard, Servant of God! thy day is almost done; The charm now lingering in thy look and word Is that which hangs about the setting sun, That which the meekness of decay hath won Still from revering love.—Yet doth the sense Of Life immortal—progress but begun— Pervade thy mien with such clear eloquence, That hope, not sadness breathes from thy decline; And the loved flowers which round thee smile farewell Of more than vernal glory seem to tell, By thy pure spirit touched with light divine; While we, to whom its parting gleams are given, Forget the grave in trustful thoughts of Heaven.