144
SONNET.
Immortal visions dawn upon me now,
I see my blest one kneeling near the throne,
The amaranthine wreath upon his brow,
And fain would hail him, "My beloved, my own!"
He starts to hear again that well-known tone,
And turns on me his eyes of blissful love:
Ah, dearest brother! early art thou flown
Our arms, I cry, to those pure realms above!
Sadly our hearts require thee. At that voice,
Beams forth again his own benignant smile:—
"I know ye weep me, but a little while
"And through the eternal years we will rejoice,
"O sister! sorrowing o'er my earthly bed,
"Think of these realms, and be thou comforted!"
I see my blest one kneeling near the throne,
The amaranthine wreath upon his brow,
And fain would hail him, "My beloved, my own!"
He starts to hear again that well-known tone,
And turns on me his eyes of blissful love:
Ah, dearest brother! early art thou flown
Our arms, I cry, to those pure realms above!
Sadly our hearts require thee. At that voice,
Beams forth again his own benignant smile:—
"I know ye weep me, but a little while
"And through the eternal years we will rejoice,
"O sister! sorrowing o'er my earthly bed,
"Think of these realms, and be thou comforted!"
