Among the pines the last wild wail was lost,
But still the wind their moaning branches tossed
Against the sky;
When in my heart a slumbering voice awoke,
And, though no sound the solemn stillness broke,
From out my inner consciousness it spoke
And made reply:
But still the wind their moaning branches tossed
Against the sky;
When in my heart a slumbering voice awoke,
And, though no sound the solemn stillness broke,
From out my inner consciousness it spoke
And made reply:
"O lonely pines, chant your sad dirge no more,
O melancholy voice, no more deplore
Thy common lot;
I stand above the earth, below the sky,
Below the angel choirs that sing on high,
Above the unknown dead whose ashes lie
By man forgot.
O melancholy voice, no more deplore
Thy common lot;
I stand above the earth, below the sky,
Below the angel choirs that sing on high,
Above the unknown dead whose ashes lie
By man forgot.
"There is a love that hath its vigil kept;
There is a power, an eye that hath not slept
Above thy dearth;
Mortal, whate'er thy long-lost form may be,
In the vast archives of eternity
Still lives above frail human memory
Thy name, thy worth."
There is a power, an eye that hath not slept
Above thy dearth;
Mortal, whate'er thy long-lost form may be,
In the vast archives of eternity
Still lives above frail human memory
Thy name, thy worth."
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