Dora Greenwell (1821–1882)

November 12th, 1851.

SHE sat within Life’s Banquet Hall at noon,

When word was brought unto her secretly,

“The Master cometh onwards quickly; soon

Across the Threshold He will call for thee.”

Then she rose up to meet Him at the Door,

But turning, courteous, made a farewell brief

To those that sat around. From Care and Grief

She parted first: “Companions sworn and true

Have ye been ever to me, but for Friends

I knew ye not till later, and did miss

Much solace through that error; let this kiss,

Late known and prized, be taken for amends;

Thou, too, kind, constant Patience, with thy slow,

Sweet counsels aiding me; I did not know

That ye were angels, until ye displayed

Your wings for flight; now bless me!” but they said,

“We blest thee long ago.”

Then turning unto twain

That stood together, tenderly and oft

She kissed them on their foreheads, whispering soft,

“Now must we part; yet leave me not before

Ye see me enter safe within the Door;

Kind bosom-comforters, that by my side

The darkest hour found ever closest bide,

A dark hour waits me, ere for evermore

Night with its heaviness be overpast;

Stay with me till I cross the Threshold o’er.

So Faith and Hope stayed by her till the last.

But giving both her hands

To one that stood the nearest,—“Thou and I

May pass together; for the holy bands

God knits on earth are never loosed on high.

Long have I walked with Thee; Thy name arose

E’en in my sleep, and sweeter than the close

Of music was thy voice; for thou wert sent

To lead me homewards from my banishment

By devious ways, and never hath my heart

Swerved from Thee, though our hands were wrung apart

By spirits sworn to sever us; above

Soon shall I look upon Thee as Thou art.”

So she crossed o’er with Love.