Читать книгу Poems - Julia C. R. Dorr - Страница 15

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O land beyond the setting sun! O realm more fair than poet’s dream! How clear thy silver rivers run, How bright thy golden glories gleam!

Earth holds no counterpart of thine; The dark-browed Orient, jewel-crowned, Pales as she bows before thy shrine, Shrouded in mystery profound.

The dazzling North, the stately West, Whose waters flow from mount to sea; The South, flower-wreathed in languid rest— What are they all, compared with thee?

All lands, all realms beneath yon dome, Where God’s own hand hath hung the stars, To thee with humblest homage come, O world beyond the crystal bars!

Thou blest Hereafter! Mortal tongue Hath striven in vain thy speech to learn, And Fancy wanders, lost among The flowery paths for which we yearn.

But well we know that fair and bright, Far beyond human ken or dream, Too glorious for our feeble sight, Thy skies of cloudless azure beam.

We know thy happy valleys lie In green repose, supremely blest; We know against thy sapphire sky Thy mountain-peaks sublimely rest.

For sometimes even now we catch Faint gleamings from thy far-off shore, While still with eager eyes we watch For one sweet sign or token more.

The loved, the deeply loved, are there! The brave, the fair, the good, the wise, Who pined for thy serener air, Nor shunned thy solemn mysteries.

There are the hopes that, one by one, Died even as we gave them birth; The dreams that passed ere well begun, Too dear, too beautiful for earth.

The aspirations, strong of wing, Aiming at heights we could not reach; The songs we tried in vain to sing; The thoughts too vast for human speech;

Thou hast them all, Hereafter! Thou Shalt keep them safely till that hour When, with God’s seal on heart and brow, We claim them in immortal power!