Poems (Curwen)/Lady White Ridley

by Annie Isabel Curwen

Lady White Ridley.

in memoriam.

The angel Death has led her gently through
 The Silent gates into the Unknown land;
And ye perforce must drink the cup of rue
 Which Sorrow holds in her remorseless hand;
Must bow submission to the will Divine,
And say—"Thy will be done," dear Lord, not mine.

O hearts bereaved of your beloved one,
 What consolation can we offer you
Whose best, and dearest, from the earth has gone?
 The sweetest comfort, if God's word be true:
Here is the balm to soothe your heart's sad pain,
Here in this promise—"Ye shall meet again!"

The silver cord is loosened for a while;
 The golden bond is broken for a space;
But ye shall see again her tender smile,
 Shall gaze again on her beloved face,
Shall clasp her hand, and hear her voice once more,
Amid the blessed throng on Caanan's shore.

The Silent gates have shut her from your sight;
 The earth has closed above her gentle breast;
But while we walk in darkness, she has light,
 And while you are aweary, she's at rest;
Here is the compensation for your loss—
She wears the crown, the while you bear the cross.

Death is not dissolution; the last breath
 Emancipates the soul from bondage here;
We know not life as yet, it comes through death,
 And perfect Faith, like love, casts out all fear.
O hearts bereaved! be comforted, for she
Has passed through death to Immortality.