Poems (Denver)/The Shadowed Brow

by Mary Caroline Denver

THE SHADOWED BROW.

I know that thy fate on earth will be sad,
 That thy spirit will bend and bow,
And thy heart in the vestments of grief be clad,
 O! thou of the shadowed brow.

I know that thy home 'mid the things of earth,
 Will be but a cheerless one;
I know that thy tone in the halls of mirth,
 Will be but a saddened tone.

For written distinctly upon thy brow,
 Is a tale of waning years;—
Perchance the strife is begun even now
 Of hopes and doubts and fears.

Of hopes that soar like birds on high,
 To bathe in the realms of light;
Of doubts that circle like vultures nigh,
 To check their impetuous flight.

Of fears for the beautiful pearls that lie
 In the depths of the heart concealed;
Too stainless for aught beneath the sky,
 Must they rest there unrevealed?

Will they sparkle not in the night of gloom,
 When thy spirit hath learned to bow
Beneath the weight of an earthly doom?
 ! thou of the shadowed brow.

I know that thy bosom is framed for love—
 For love—the divine, the true;
Whose every breathing might find above,
 A place with the chosen few.

Yet the flowers thou lovest so well will die,
 And thy heart will perish too,
And the relics within thy bosom lie
 Forever concealed from view.

For I know that thy fate will be sad on earth,
 That thy spirit will bend and bow,
And thy voice be mournful in halls of mirth,
 O! thou of the shadowed brow.