COELO ET IN TERRA
By Thomas Walsh
Earth is a jealous mother; from her breastShe will endure no separation longFrom aught she bore;So one by oneShe claimeth evermoreThe parent and the friend—The loveliest and the best,The meek, the faithful, and the strong,—Till, link by golden link undone,The very tomb that seemsTo youth the dismal gulf of all that’s fair,Becomes the chosen hearthstone of our dreams,The wonder-house of all most rare,Most deathless, and most dear;Where the bereaved heart,Life’s exile held apart,Would turn for love-warmth and abiding cheer.Yea,—earth can be so kind,—Then ye that rule the wind,Are ye of less appeal?Ye spirits of the starsAnd regions where the sunsThemselves as atoms wheelBeneath your thundering cars?Cerulean ones!—Or goddesses, or saints,Or demiurge, or Trinities,Wherewith heaven highest faints!Are ye less kind than theseDim vaults of clay,Ye boasts and fathers of the ancient day?Thou god Avernian, Dis!—beholdWhat timid form and oldAdown thy purple gulf descendsUnto the arch of Death—(Grim friend of friends!Be thou placated!) ’Tis a mother, see,Takes her first step—a child—into eternity!Leave her not fearful thereWho was of love entire,So gentle and so fair!—Thy majesty and dread withholdFor the high head and bold,—Imperial Death, mock not thyself with ire!Nay,—then it was not fearThat stayed her foot the while;For now her lovely eyes,Unclouded, brown,Are lighted with their greeting smile—The Hand awaited through the gloomIs seen!—her whitened forehead liesUpon the Shepherd’s shoulder down—Yea,—her own Jesus comes,—to leadUnto the meadows where is Peace indeed!
Earth is a jealous mother; from her breastShe will endure no separation longFrom aught she bore;So one by oneShe claimeth evermoreThe parent and the friend—The loveliest and the best,The meek, the faithful, and the strong,—Till, link by golden link undone,The very tomb that seemsTo youth the dismal gulf of all that’s fair,Becomes the chosen hearthstone of our dreams,The wonder-house of all most rare,Most deathless, and most dear;Where the bereaved heart,Life’s exile held apart,Would turn for love-warmth and abiding cheer.Yea,—earth can be so kind,—Then ye that rule the wind,Are ye of less appeal?Ye spirits of the starsAnd regions where the sunsThemselves as atoms wheelBeneath your thundering cars?Cerulean ones!—Or goddesses, or saints,Or demiurge, or Trinities,Wherewith heaven highest faints!Are ye less kind than theseDim vaults of clay,Ye boasts and fathers of the ancient day?Thou god Avernian, Dis!—beholdWhat timid form and oldAdown thy purple gulf descendsUnto the arch of Death—(Grim friend of friends!Be thou placated!) ’Tis a mother, see,Takes her first step—a child—into eternity!Leave her not fearful thereWho was of love entire,So gentle and so fair!—Thy majesty and dread withholdFor the high head and bold,—Imperial Death, mock not thyself with ire!Nay,—then it was not fearThat stayed her foot the while;For now her lovely eyes,Unclouded, brown,Are lighted with their greeting smile—The Hand awaited through the gloomIs seen!—her whitened forehead liesUpon the Shepherd’s shoulder down—Yea,—her own Jesus comes,—to leadUnto the meadows where is Peace indeed!
Earth is a jealous mother; from her breastShe will endure no separation longFrom aught she bore;So one by oneShe claimeth evermoreThe parent and the friend—The loveliest and the best,The meek, the faithful, and the strong,—Till, link by golden link undone,The very tomb that seemsTo youth the dismal gulf of all that’s fair,Becomes the chosen hearthstone of our dreams,The wonder-house of all most rare,Most deathless, and most dear;Where the bereaved heart,Life’s exile held apart,Would turn for love-warmth and abiding cheer.Yea,—earth can be so kind,—Then ye that rule the wind,Are ye of less appeal?Ye spirits of the starsAnd regions where the sunsThemselves as atoms wheelBeneath your thundering cars?Cerulean ones!—Or goddesses, or saints,Or demiurge, or Trinities,Wherewith heaven highest faints!Are ye less kind than theseDim vaults of clay,Ye boasts and fathers of the ancient day?Thou god Avernian, Dis!—beholdWhat timid form and oldAdown thy purple gulf descendsUnto the arch of Death—(Grim friend of friends!Be thou placated!) ’Tis a mother, see,Takes her first step—a child—into eternity!Leave her not fearful thereWho was of love entire,So gentle and so fair!—Thy majesty and dread withholdFor the high head and bold,—Imperial Death, mock not thyself with ire!Nay,—then it was not fearThat stayed her foot the while;For now her lovely eyes,Unclouded, brown,Are lighted with their greeting smile—The Hand awaited through the gloomIs seen!—her whitened forehead liesUpon the Shepherd’s shoulder down—Yea,—her own Jesus comes,—to leadUnto the meadows where is Peace indeed!
Earth is a jealous mother; from her breast
She will endure no separation long
From aught she bore;
So one by one
She claimeth evermore
The parent and the friend—
The loveliest and the best,
The meek, the faithful, and the strong,—
Till, link by golden link undone,
The very tomb that seems
To youth the dismal gulf of all that’s fair,
Becomes the chosen hearthstone of our dreams,
The wonder-house of all most rare,
Most deathless, and most dear;
Where the bereaved heart,
Life’s exile held apart,
Would turn for love-warmth and abiding cheer.
Yea,—earth can be so kind,—
Then ye that rule the wind,
Are ye of less appeal?
Ye spirits of the stars
And regions where the suns
Themselves as atoms wheel
Beneath your thundering cars?
Cerulean ones!—
Or goddesses, or saints,
Or demiurge, or Trinities,
Wherewith heaven highest faints!
Are ye less kind than these
Dim vaults of clay,
Ye boasts and fathers of the ancient day?
Thou god Avernian, Dis!—behold
What timid form and old
Adown thy purple gulf descends
Unto the arch of Death—(Grim friend of friends!
Be thou placated!) ’Tis a mother, see,
Takes her first step—a child—into eternity!
Leave her not fearful there
Who was of love entire,
So gentle and so fair!—
Thy majesty and dread withhold
For the high head and bold,—
Imperial Death, mock not thyself with ire!
Nay,—then it was not fear
That stayed her foot the while;
For now her lovely eyes,
Unclouded, brown,
Are lighted with their greeting smile—
The Hand awaited through the gloom
Is seen!—her whitened forehead lies
Upon the Shepherd’s shoulder down—
Yea,—her own Jesus comes,—to lead
Unto the meadows where is Peace indeed!