A Burden

They lie at rest asleep and dead,
The dew is cool above their head,
They knew not when past summer fled—
                                          Amen.

They lie at rest and quite forget
The hopes and fears that wring us yet:
Their eyes are set, their heart is set—
                                        Amen.

They lie with us, yet gone away
Hear nothing that we sob or say
Beneath the thorn of wintry May—
                                    Miserere.

They lie asleep with us, and take
Sweet rest although our heart should ache,"
Rest on although our heart should break—
                                            Miserere.

Together all yet each alone,
Each laid at rest beneath his own
Smooth turf or white appointed stone—
                                         Amen.

When shall our slumbers be so deep,
And bleeding heart and eyes that weep
Lie lapped in the sufficient sleep?—
                                     Miserere.

We dream of them, and who shall say
They never dream while far away
Of us between the night and day?—
                                     Sursum Corda.

Gone far away: or it may be
They lean toward us and hear and see,
Yea and remember more than we—
                                    Amen.

For wherefore should we think them far
Who know not where those spirits are
That shall be glorious as a star?—
                                   Hallelujah.

Where chill or change can never rise,
Deep in the depth of Paradise
They rest world-wearied heart and eyes—
                                           Jubilate.

Safe as a hidden brooding dove,
With perfect peace within, above,
They love, and look for perfect love—
                                       Hallelujah.

We hope and love with throbbing breast,
They hope and love and are at rest:
And yet we question which is best—
                                     Miserere.

Oh what is earth, that we should build
Our houses here, and seek concealed
Poor treasure, and add field to field

And heap to heap and store to store,
Still grasping more and seeking more
While Death stands knocking at the door?—
                                             Cui bono?

But one will answer : Changed and pale
And sick at heart, I thirst, I fail
For love, I thirst without avail—
                                 Miserrima.

Sweet love, a fountain sealed to me:
Sweet love, the one sufficiency
For all the longings that can be—
                                  Amen.

Oh happy they alone whose lot
Is love! I search from spot to spot:
In life, in death, I find it not—
                                Miserrima.

Not found in life: nay verily.
I too have sought: come sit with me,
And grief for grief shall answer thee—
                                        Miserrima.

Sit with me where the sapless leaves
Are heaped and sere: to him who grieves
What cheer have last year's harvest-sheaves?—
                                                Cut bono?

Not found in life yet found in death.
Hush, throbbing heart and sobbing breath!
There is a nest of love beneath

The sod, a home prepared before:
Our brethren whom one mother bore
Live there, and toil and ache no more—
                                          Hallelujah.

Our friends, our kinsfolk, great and small,
Our loved, our best beloved of all,
They watch across the parting wall

(Do they not watch ?) and count the creep
Of time, and sound the shallowing deep,
Till we in port shall also sleep—
                                  Hallelujah, Amen.