Poems (Curwen)/On the Death of a Beloved Nephew

by Annie Isabel Curwen

On the Death of a beloved Nephew.

  Soul of the dead!
Whither, oh whither, hast thou fled?
  Hast winged thy flight
To fairer realms of life and light?
  Or art thou still
Lingering, by the Almighty's will,
  On this sad earth,
Where thy poor mortal frame had birth?
  And dost thou roam
About the precincts of thy southern home,
  Beyond the seas,
In the far-off Antipodes?

  Soul of the dead!
Thy young form lies in the Ocean bed;
  And one most dear,
Unconscious of the sorrow drawing near,
  Awaits with joy
Tidings of the home-coming of her boy,
  But waits in vain;
She will not hear his merry voice again,
  Nor will she see
The bright young face she loved so tenderly,
  Till Death's kind hand
Shall lead her to thee in the "Better Land."

  O, sister mine!
My heart is sore indeed for thee and thine.
  Great is thy loss,
Heavy and hard to bear will be thy cross;
  Bitter indeed
The cup thou hast to drink; thy heart will bleed
  I know; but one
Above knows best. He called thy dear loved son,
  And God is wise,
Knowing the future, all that therein lies;
  And so He bade
His messengers to—"go and call the lad."