Reverie [“Only a few more years!”] By Abram Joseph Ryan

           Only a few more years!
             Weary years!
            Only a few more tears!
             Bitter tears!
    And then — and then — like other men,
     I cease to wander, cease to weep,
     Dim shadows o’er my way shall creep;
    And out of the day and into the night,
    Into the dark and out of the bright
     I go, and Death shall veil my face,
     The feet of the years shall fast efface
     My very name, and every trace
    I leave on earth; for the stern years tread —
    Tread out the names of the gone and dead!
    And then, ah! then, like other men,
     I close my eyes and go to sleep,
     Only a few, one hour, shall weep:
     Ah! me, the grave is dark and deep!

            Alas!    Alas!
             How soon we pass!
            And ah! we go
             So far away;
    When go we must,
    From the light of Life, and the heat of strife,
    To the peace of Death, and the cold, still dust,
     We go — we go — we may not stay,
     We travel the lone, dark, dreary way;
    Out of the day and into the night,
    Into the darkness, out of the bright.
    And then, ah! then, like other men,
     We close our eyes and go to sleep;
    We hush our hearts and go to sleep;
    Only a few, one hour, shall weep:
    Ah! me, the grave is lone and deep!

    I saw a flower, at morn, so fair;
    I passed at eve, it was not there.
     I saw a sunbeam, golden bright,
     I saw a cloud the sunbeam’s shroud,
     And I saw night
     Digging the grave of day;
    And day took off her golden crown,
    And flung it sorrowfully down.
     Ah! day, the Sun’s fair bride!
     At twilight moaned and died.
    And so, alas! like day we pass:
         At morn we smile,
         At eve we weep,
         At morn we wake,
     In night we sleep.
    We close our eyes and go to sleep:
    Ah! me, the grave is still and deep!

            But God is sweet.
             My mother told me so,
            When I knelt at her feet
             Long — so long — ago;
    She clasped my hands in hers.
    Ah! me, that memory stirs
     My soul’s profoundest deep —
     No wonder that I weep.
    She clasped my hands and smiled,
    Ah! then I was a child —
         I knew not harm —
         My mother’s arm
    Was flung around me; and I felt
    That when I knelt
     To listen to my mother’s prayer,
     God was with my mother there.

    Yea! “God is sweet!”
         She told me so;
     She never told me wrong;
    And through my years of woe
    Her whispers soft, and sad, and low,
     And sweet as Angel’s song,
    Have floated like a dream.

    And, ah! to-night I seem
     A very child in my old, old place,
     Beneath my mother’s blessed face,
    And through each sweet remembered word,
    This sweetest undertone is heard:
     “My child! my child! our God is sweet,
     In Life — in Death — kneel at his feet —
    Sweet in gladness, sweet in gloom,
    Sweeter still beside the tomb.”
     Why should I wail?    Why ought I weep?
     The grave — it is not dark and deep;
    Why should I sigh?    Why ought I moan?
    The grave — it is not still and lone;
     Our God is sweet, our grave is sweet,
     We lie there sleeping at His feet,
    Where the wicked shall from troubling cease,
    And weary hearts shall rest in peace!