Poems (Toke)/When o'er my weary eyes at last

by Emma Toke

HEN o'er my weary eyes at last,
 The dew of slumber falls,
How clear the visions of the past
 That world of dreams recalls!
I live among the dead once more,
 Their voices round me ring;
The forms, the faces loved of yore,
 Float by on angel's wing.

Father and mother! ye are near
 To bless your child again;
Sisters beloved! kindred dear,
 Ye crowd around me then.
Familiar voices, childish days,
 The friends of early youth,
All blend in one commingling haze
 Of fiction and of truth.

And thou, my angel child, more dear,
 More wept than all the rest,
How oft thine image comes to cheer
 Thy mourning mother's breast!
I clasp thee to my heart, mine own!
 I kiss thy cheek once more.
Alas! in this world, dreams alone
 Can that loved face restore.

No marvel that I long to sleep,
 And live again those years;
No marvel that I wake to weep,
 But oh! not bitter tears.
For blesséd be His boundless love
 Who gave and took away;—
We know, that safe with Him above,
 Ye wait the awful day.

In that calm land, where earthly fears
 And griefs for ever cease,
The infant and the full of years
 Together rest in peace.
And we, though sorrowing and bereft,
 Must strive in faith and prayer,
Thankful for countless blessings left,
 At last to meet them there.

E.

October 4, 1854.