There is no death! the stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore,
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
They shine forever more.
There is no death! the dust we tread
Shall change, beneath the summer showers,
To golden grain, or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
There is no death! the leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away--
They only wait, through wintry hours,
The warm sweet breath of May.
There is no death! the choicest gifts
That Heaven hath kindly lent to earth
Are ever first to seek again
The country of their birth;
And all things that, for grief or joy,
Are worthy of thy love and care,
Whose loss has left us desolate,
Are safely garnered there.
* * * * *
They are not dead! they have but passed
Beyond the mists that blind us here,
Into the new and larger life
Of that serener sphere.
They have but dropped their robe of clay
To put their shining raiment on;
They have not wandered far away--
They are not "lost" or "gone."
Though disenthralled and glorified,
They still are here and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
They never can forget.
--J. C. McCreery.