Death was full urgent with thee, Sister dear, <br />And startling in his speed;— <br />Brief pain, then languor till thy end came near— <br />Such was the path decreed, <br />The hurried road <br />To lead thy soul from earth to thine own God's <br />abode. <br /> <br />Death wrought with thee, sweet maid, impatiently:— <br />Yet merciful the haste <br />That baffles sickness;—dearest, thou didst die, <br />Thou wast not made to taste <br />Death's bitterness, <br />Decline's slow-wasting charm, or fever's fierce <br />distress. <br /> <br />Death came unheralded:—but it was well; <br />For so thy Saviour bore <br />Kind witness, thou wast meet at once to dwell <br />On His eternal shore; <br />All warning spared, <br />For none He gives where hearts are for prompt change <br />prepared. <br /> <br />Death wrought in mystery; both complaint and cure <br />To human skill unknown:— <br />God put aside all means, to make us sure <br />It was His deed alone; <br />Lest we should lay <br />Reproach on our poor selves, that thou wast caught <br />away. <br /> <br />Death urged as scant of time:—lest, Sister dear, <br />We many a lingering day <br />Had sicken'd with alternate hope and fear, <br />The ague of delay; <br />Watching each spark <br />Of promise quench'd in turn, till all our sky was <br />dark. <br /> <br />Death came and went:—that so thy image might <br />Our yearning hearts possess, <br />Associate with all pleasant thoughts and bright, <br />With youth and loveliness; <br />Sorrow can claim, <br />Mary, nor lot nor part in thy soft soothing name. <br /> <br />Joy of sad hearts, and light of downcast eyes! <br />Dearest thou art enshrined <br />In all thy fragrance in our memories; <br />For we must ever find <br />Bare thought of thee <br />Freshen this weary life, while weary life shall be.<br /><br />John Henry Newman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/consolations-in-bereavement-2/
