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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420562" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lucy Hooper</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead,<br>That all of thee we loved and cherished<br>Has with thy summer roses perished;<br>And left, as its young beauty fled,<br>An ashen memory in its stead,<br>The twilight of a parted day<br>Whose fading light is cold and vain,<br>The heart's faint echo of a strain<br>Of low, sweet music passed away.<br>That true and loving heart, that gift<br>Of a mind, earnest, clear, profound,<br>Bestowing, with a glad unthrift,<br>Its sunny light on all around,<br>Affinities which only could<br>Cleave to the pure, the true, and good;<br>And sympathies which found no rest,<br>Save with the loveliest and best.<br>Of them--of thee--remains there naught<br>But sorrow in the mourner's breast?<br>A shadow in the land of thought?<br>No! Even my weak and trembling faith<br>Can lift for thee the veil which doubt<br>And human fear have drawn about<br>The all-awaiting scene of death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even as thou wast I see thee still;<br>And, save the absence of all ill<br>And pain and weariness, which here<br>Summoned the sigh or wrung the tear,<br>The same as when, two summers back,<br>Beside our childhood's Merrimac,<br>I saw thy dark eye wander o'er<br>Stream, sunny upland, rocky shore,<br>And heard thy low, soft voice alone<br>Midst lapse of waters, and the tone<br>Of pine-leaves by the west-wind blown,<br>There's not a charm of soul or brow,<br>Of all we knew and loved in thee,<br>But lives in holier beauty now,<br>Baptized in immortality!<br>Not mine the sad and freezing dream<br>Of souls that, with their earthly mould,<br>Cast off the loves and joys of old,<br>Unbodied, like a pale moonbeam,<br>As pure, as passionless, and cold;<br>Nor mine the hope of Indra's son,<br>Of slumbering in oblivion's rest,<br>Life's myriads blending into one,<br>In blank annihilation blest;<br>Dust-atoms of the infinite,<br>Sparks scattered from the central light,<br>And winning back through mortal pain<br>Their old unconsciousness again.<br>No! I have friends in Spirit Land,<br>Not shadows in a shadowy band,<br>Not others, but themselves are they.<br>And still I think of them the same<br>As when the Master's summons came;<br>Their change,--the holy morn-light breaking<br>Upon the dream-worn sleeper, waking,--<br>A change from twilight into day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They 've laid thee midst the household graves,<br>Where father, brother, sister lie;<br>Below thee sweep the dark blue waves,<br>Above thee bends the summer sky.<br>Thy own loved church in sadness read<br>Her solemn ritual o'er thy head,<br>And blessed and hallowed with her prayer<br>The turf laid lightly o'er thee there.<br>That church, whose rites and liturgy,<br>Sublime and old, were truth to thee,<br>Undoubted to thy bosom taken,<br>As symbols of a faith unshaken.<br>Even I, of simpler views, could feel<br>The beauty of thy trust and zeal;<br>And, owning not thy creed, could see<br>How deep a truth it seemed to thee,<br>And how thy fervent heart had thrown<br>O'er all, a coloring of its own,<br>And kindled up, intense and warm,<br>A life in every rite and form,<br>As. when on Chebar's banks of old,<br>The Hebrew's gorgeous vision rolled,<br>A spirit filled the vast machine,<br>A life, 'within the wheels' was seen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell! A little time, and we<br>Who knew thee well, and loved thee here,<br>One after one shall follow thee<br>As pilgrims through the gate of fear,<br>Which opens on eternity.<br>Yet shall we cherish not the less<br>All that is left our hearts meanwhile;<br>The memory of thy loveliness<br>Shall round our weary pathway smile,<br>Like moonlight when the sun has set,<br>A sweet and tender radiance yet.<br>Thoughts of thy clear-eyed sense of duty,<br>Thy generous scorn of all things wrong,<br>The truth, the strength, the graceful beauty<br>Which blended in thy song.<br>All lovely things, by thee beloved,<br>Shall whisper to our hearts of thee;<br>These green hills, where thy childhood roved,<br>Yon river winding to the sea,<br>The sunset light of autumn eves<br>Reflecting on the deep, still floods,<br>Cloud, crimson sky, and trembling leaves<br>Of rainbow-tinted woods,<br>These, in our view, shall henceforth take<br>A tenderer meaning for thy sake;<br>And all thou lovedst of earth and sky,<br>Seem sacred to thy memory.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420562" data-title="Lucy Hooper de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead,
That all of thee we loved and cherished
Has with thy summer roses perished;
And left, as its young beauty fled,
An ashen memory in its stead,
The twilight of a parted day
Whose fading light is cold and vain,
The ..."></div>
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