Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Poems. I. Which Things are a ShadowBernard Barton (17841849)
I
With morning’s dazzling sheen;
But gathering clouds, ere fall of night,
Had darken’d o’er the scene:
“How like that tide,”
My spirit sighed,
“This life to me hath been.”
Was bright with closing day;
And o’er the river’s peaceful breast
Shone forth the sunset ray:—
My spirit caught
The soothing thought,
“This life might pass away.”
And shady foliage crown’d;
But, ah! the axe was at its root,
And fell’d it to the ground:
Well might that tree
Recall to me
The doom my hopes had found.
Its smoke ascend on high—
A shadowy type, beheld with awe,
Of that which will not die,
But from the grave
Will rise and have
A refuge in the sky.