The Mourners

written by

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LOW she lies, who blest our eyes
  Through many a sunny day;
She may not smile, she will not rise--
  The life hath past away!
Yet there is a world of light beyond,
  Where we neither die nor sleep--
She is there, of whom our souls were fond--
  Then wherefore do we weep?

The heart is cold, whose thoughts were told
  In each glance of her glad bright eye;
And she lies pale, who was so bright,
  She scarce seemed made to die.
Yet we know that her soul is happy now,
  Where the saints their calm watch keep;
That angels are crowning that fair young brow--
  Then wherefore do we weep?

Her laughing voice made all rejoice,
  Who caught the happy sound;
There was gladness in her very step,
  As it lightly touched the ground.
The echoes of voice and step are gone;
  There is silence still and deep:
Yet we know she sings by God's bright throne--
  Then wherefore do we weep?

The cheek's pale tinge, the lid's dark fringe;
  That lies like a shadow there,
Were beautiful in the eyes of all--
  And her glossy golden hair!
But though that lid may never wake
  From its dark and dreamless sleep,
She is gone where young hearts do not break--
  Then wherefore do we weep?

That world of light with joy is bright,
  This is a world of woe:
Shall we grieve that her soul hath taken flight,
  Because we dwell below?
We will bury her under the mossy sod,
  And one long bright tress we'll keep;
We have only given her back to God--
  Ah! wherefore do we weep?

© Caroline Norton