George Lunt (1803–1885)

WIDEST, to him whose noblest life has sought

Life’s noblest aim, long ere its shadows close,

Unfolds the golden gate; the stream outflows

Whence the free spirit drinks divinest thought.

Then, visions from the Empyrean caught

Imbue the waiting soul; the bridal rose

Of Sharon blended with the lily glows,

For him in one immortal chaplet wrought;

Deeper and holier than the hope of youth

The heart’s high trust, as mortal ties decay;

Too oft, our broken manhood tears of ruth

Demands; at morn, we know not of the day;

Fair holds its promise, when, redeemed like truth,

Clear evening melts in depths of heaven away.