'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; <br />I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; <br />For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, <br />Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew: <br />Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; <br />Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save, <br />But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn! <br />O when shall day dawn on the night of the grave! <br /> <br />'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd, <br />That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind; <br />My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade, <br />Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. <br />O pity, great Father of light, then I cried, <br />Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee; <br />Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish'd my pride: <br />From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst free. <br /> <br />And darkness and doubt are now flying away, <br />No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn, <br />So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray, <br />The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. <br />See Truth, Love, and Mercy in triumph descending, <br />And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom! <br />On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending, <br />And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.<br /><br />James Beattie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hope-beyond-the-grave/
