Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Harriet Elizabeth BeecherStowe325 The Other World
I
The world we do not see;
Yet the sweet closing of an eye
May bring us there to be.
Amid our worldly cares;
Its gentle voices whisper love,
And mingle with our prayers.
Sweet helping hands are stirred,
And palpitates the veil between,
With breathings almost heard.
They have no power to break;
For mortal words are not for them
To utter or partake.
So near to press they seem,
They lull us gently to our rest,
They melt into our dream.
’T is easy now to see
How lovely and how sweet a pass
The hour of death may be;—
Wrapped in a trance of bliss,
And, gently drawn in loving arms,
To swoon from that to this:—
Scarce asking where we are,
To feel all evil sink away,
All sorrow and all care!
Press nearer to our side;
Into our thoughts, into our prayers,
With gentle helping glide.
A dried and vanished stream;
Your joy be the reality,
Our suffering life the dream.