Poems (Allen)/The Chamber of Rest

by Elizabeth Chase Allen

THE CHAMBER OF REST.

HAD wandered from morn till the twilight was gray
 In a lonely and wearisome quest,
When I came to a love-lighted home in my way,
And the dear ones who dwelt there besought me to stay
With pleadings so warm that I could but obey;
 So they led me, by slumber oppressed,
To a dear little room, which I think of to-day
 As the Beautiful Chamber of Rest.

For it seemed as though angels, in visible form,
 Kept watch o'er the travel-worn guest;
And though the dark midnight was frantic with storm,
All bright with love's atmosphere, rosy and warm,
 Was the Beautiful Chamber of Rest.

How soft was the low couch's draping,—how light
 Its weight on the dream-laden breast!
And the loosely-looped curtains, so snowily white,
Mocked the robe of the tempest that raged in its might,
And shut out the stormy and boisterous night
 From the Beautiful Chamber of Rest.

And when the new morning was gilding the skies,
 I heard in my slumbers so blest
A gentle voice murmuring sweetly, "Arise!"
And I woke from my dream with a joyous surprise,
To meet the soft radiance of loving blue eyes
Whose smiling transformed to a bright Paradise
 The Beautiful Chamber of Rest.

Ah me! by and by, when my life-dream is told,
 And I cease from its wearisome quest,
When slumber's soft arms will my weary frame fold
In the chamber that waits for the young and the old—
But the room will be dark, and the bed will be cold,
 And the pillow all dreamlessly pressed,
And the curtains cling damply, all covered with mould,
 In that, my last Chamber of Rest.

But though long on my eyelids the death-slumber lies,
 I shall wake to a happiness blest,
If the bright morning-angel who bids me arise
Have the dear loving voice, and the dewy blue eyes
Which woke me that morn with a joyful surprise,
 In the Beautiful Chamber of Rest!