Poems (McDonald)/The Loved and Lost

by Mary Noel McDonald

THE LOVED AND LOST.

The shadows of death o'er my path have been sweeping,
 There are those who have loved me, debarred from the day;
The green turf is bright where in peace they are sleeping,
 And on wings of remembrance ray soul is away.
'Tis shut to the glow of this present existence,
 It hears from the past a funereal strain,
And eagerly turns to the high-seeming distance,
 Where the turns blooms of earth will be garnered again."
Willis G. Clark.

Come to my heart again, ye long departed,
 Come, fill the vacant places at our hearth;
Vainly for you the bitter tears have started,
 Since ye forsook for heaven the haunts of earth.
Vainly, ye lost, we yearn for your caressing,
 And ask the tender tones which once we heard;
On the still air there comes no whispered blessing,
 Mute is each lip, and lost each loving word.

Come once again, there is a shadow o'er us,
 Earth seems a weary land since ye are gone,
Dim is the lengthened pathway spread before us,
 And distant far the goal which ye have won:
Vainly the spring-time, in its bloom returning,
 Wakes the young buds, and clothes the earth anew;
Unto our hearts, with quenchless love still burning,
 What, what avails its beauty, 'reft of you!

Thou, the dear friend of girlhood, memory traces
 Full many an hour of gladness linked with thee,
And in thy children's fair and gentle faces,
 Some loved resemblance of thyself may see.
Thou, the kind guardian of my childhood's hours,
 My guide in youth, thine absence I deplore;
See the dark cloud that on her pathway lowers,
 Come to thy child, and be her shield once more.

And thou, the best and dearest, words can never
 Speak the keen anguish of my stricken breast;
"Twas but our summer day—how soon to sever
 The sacred bond which made our life so blest.
The past, the past, 'tis robed in hues of brightness,
 Its records tell of years how full of bliss,
When my young spirit in its joy and lightness,
 Dreamed not of such a fearful woe as this.

Dost thou still love me in that far-off heaven?
 Or art thou near me on thy spirit wings?
Beloved, beloved, I cannot deem it riven,
 That holy tie to which my heart yet clings:
Hast thou not seen the tears, which, like a river,
 Swelled to the flood-gates of my breaking heart?
O say not thou art lost to me for ever—
 We have been linked too fondly, thus to part.

Come, come to bless me, with thine eyes kind beaming,
 Let thy loved voice upon my fond ears thrill;
Come, with the light of heaven around thee streaming,
 Come to the heart that weeps thee, loves thee still.
Ay! in its inmost core with sorrow breaking,
 Still does that love with quenchless ardor burn;
While a sad voice within its depths awaking,
 Hath but one echo, "O return, return."

Hark! on mine ear seraphic notes are ringing!
 Your voices, loved ones, mingle in the lay;
Ye join the hymns which angel choirs are singing,
 But, 'mid your songs, methinks I hear you say,—
"There is no darkness here, the clouds are riven,
 The veil is lifted from our earthly eyes;
Would'st thou recall us from the light of heaven,
 And all the ceaseless joys of Paradise?"

No! no! let mortal vision greet ye never;
 Silence thy yearning, O repining heart!
Bliss, bliss unending, ye have gained for ever,
 No more in earthly sorrow to have part;
Joy for the free and blessed! all unheeding
 The world, its fleeting pleasures or its care;
Onward my soul, be then thine eager speeding,
 To those pure realms, and join thy lost ones there.