Poems (Ford)/The Beautiful Land

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THE BEAUTIFUL LAND.
Beyond the dark river, whose sullen waves Are carrying evermoreTheir freights of beauty and hope and love Away from this mortal shore,Stretch flower-crowned valleys green and fair, Where glorious mansions stand,Whose gold gates open to welcome all Who come to that beautiful land.
Oh, there no storm-king's scowling brow E'er saddens the eye of noon,But lilies wave and roses blow On the breast of an endless June;While through bright bowers of fadeless bloom Blow breezes soft and bland,Breathing immortal youth on all Who come to that beautiful land.
A flood of glory whose waves of light Our earth-dimmed sight would drown,Flows there from the brow that here below Was pierced with a thorny crown; ​With victor's crowns on their radiant brows, And palms in their stainless hands,Stand round Him those who through tears and blood Have passed to that beautiful land.
There too are dwelling our worshipped ones Who walk upon earth no more;As we strive through grief's dark veil to see The light of that distant shore,We catch a gleam of their snowy robes, As they glide o'er the crystal strand,And beckon us over death's silent sea Away to that beautiful land.
Soon shall we pass from earth away On that dark, unebbing tide,Alone with the boatman cold and pale, In quest of the farther side;But, oh, what joy on the shore to feel The clasp of a friendly handThat cold distrust can never estrange Or chill in that beautiful land!
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