Poems (Louisa Blake)/The Widow of Zareptha

​
THE WIDOW OF ZAREPTHA.
The morning sun shone brightly O'er mount, and stream, and sea,And on the ear came lightly The grove's rich melody.
It seem'd a day of gladness, As if the very earthHad shaken off all sadness, For joyousness and mirth;
A day to pour a healing Upon the stricken breast,In its calm joy revealing A pledge of future rest.
But there was one lone dwelling, One desolated spot,From which low moans came telling, That there the sun shone not.
​
One was within, whose sorrow From that effulgent mornNo brilliant tint could borrow, Her joy on earth was gone,
With grief too great for weeping, She sat beside the bed,Her lone watch silent keeping Beside the lately dead.
Her heart in its deep sadness Felt while she look'd on him,All round might smile in gladness, For her her light was dim.
The last bright spot was clouded Left in her darken'd sky,When death's sad shadows shrouded The light of that young eye;
'Twas closed, yet life seemed clinging Still to the lovely clay,And o'er the sweet face flinging The bright but parting ray.
​
Though death's stern fetters bound him In stillness dark and deep,So peaceful all around him It seemed a breathing sleep.
Thou mother, sad reclining Beside thine only son,Submissively resigning Thy last, thy lovely one—
Soon blissful and adoring Thy wondering eyes shall seeThe power of God restoring The dead to life and thee.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.