Poems (Curwen)/Heaven

For works with similar titles, see Heaven.
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Heaven
No shadow falls upon its golden plains;  No blight upon its flowers; No discord mars the sweet harmonious strains  Which echo through its bowers.
Clouds never darken its radiant skies;  No storm winds sweep its coast; Night never draws a veil o'er Paradise  And its angelic host.
No cry of sorrow e'er is heard within  Those lovely jasper walls. No voice of anguish, anger, or of sin,  The listener's ear appals.
No sickness wastes; no trials fret and wear;  No pestilential breath Spreads dire contagion on its balmy air— There is no pain or death.
The happy children roam amid the bow'rs  Where Sharon's roses grow; Picking the fadeless everlasting flow'rs,  Singing the while they go.
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And at the golden gates the blest ones stand,  Shading their eyes to see Who cometh up from the dark borderland  To cross the crystal sea—
That shining moat which glitters all around sound,  The New Jerusalem, From whence there comes a sweet and glorious  The new song of the Lamb.
And in the courts of heaven, where glories blaze,  The cherubims adore The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, whose praise  They sing for evermore.


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