Poems eBook

Denis Florence MacCarthy
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 197 pages of information about Poems.

[Transcriber’s note:  The above 5 asterisks are printed as in the Original.  They do not represent a thought break.]

Blessed are they that mourn.”

Oh, deem not they are blest alone
  Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
The Power who pities man, has shown
  A blessing for the eyes that weep.

The light of smiles shall fill again
  The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
  Are promises of happier years.

There is a day of sunny rest
  For every dark and troubled night;
And grief may bide an evening guest,
  But joy shall come with early light.

And thou, who, o’er thy friend’s low bier,
  Sheddest the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
  Will give him to thy arms again.

Nor let the good man’s trust depart,
  Though life its common gifts deny,—­
Though with a pierced and broken heart,
  And spurned of men, he goes to die.

For God has marked each sorrowing day
  And numbered every secret tear,
And heaven’s long age of bliss shall pay
  For all his children suffer here.

No man knoweth his sepulchre.”

When he, who, from the scourge of wrong,
  Aroused the Hebrew tribes to fly,
Saw the fair region, promised long,
  And bowed him on the hills to die;

God made his grave, to men unknown,
  Where Moab’s rocks a vale infold,
And laid the aged seer alone
  To slumber while the world grows old.

Thus still, whene’er the good and just
  Close the dim eye on life and pain,
Heaven watches o’er their sleeping dust
  Till the pure spirit comes again.

Though nameless, trampled, and forgot,
  His servant’s humble ashes lie,
Yet God has marked and sealed the spot,
  To call its inmate to the sky.


  When insect wings are glistening in the beam
    Of the low sun, and mountain-tops are bright,
  Oh, let me, by the crystal valley-stream,
    Wander amid the mild and mellow light;
And while the wood-thrush pipes his evening lay,
Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day.

  Oh, sun! that o’er the western mountains now
    Goest down in glory! ever beautiful
  And blessed is thy radiance, whether thou
    Colourest the eastern heaven and night-mist cool,
Till the bright day-star vanish, or on high
Climbest and streamest thy white splendours from mid-sky.

  Yet, loveliest are thy setting smiles, and fair,
    Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues
  That live among the clouds, and flush the air,
    Lingering and deepening at the hour of dews. 
Then softest gales are breathed, and softest heard
The plaining voice of streams, and pensive note of bird.

Project Gutenberg
Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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