Poems (Gould, 1833)/The Thrice Closed Eye

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THE THRICE CLOSED EYE.
The eye was closed, and calm the breast;'T was Sleep—the weary was at rest!While fancy on her rainbow wingsRanged through a world of new-made things,Mid regions pure, and visions bright,Formed but to mock the waking sight.For, ah! how light does slumber sit,On sorrow's brow—how quickly flitFrom her pale throne, when envious careComes wrapped in clouds and frowning there!
Again I saw the falling lid,And from his sight the world was hid.The lip was moved; the knee was bent;The heavy laden spirit went,Bearing her burden from the dustUp to her only Rock of trust;And, childlike, on her Father's breastCast off the load, and found her rest.For, this was Prayer—'t was faith and loveCommuning with a God above.
At length that eye was locked! the keyHad opened heaven—'t was Death! yes, heHad sweetly quelled the mortal strife,And to the saint the gates of lifeUnbolted. On the sleeper's browLay the smooth seal of quiet now, ​Which none could break. The soul, that hereDwelt with eternal things so near,Had burst her bonds to soar on high,And left to earth the thrice-closed eye!
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