Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader · Chapter 315=397.= "the Death-Summons."
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A voice is on mine ear—a solemn voice: I come, I come, it calls me to my rest; Faint not, my yearning heart; rejoice, rejoice; Soon shalt thou reach the gardens of the blest: On the bright waters there, the living streams, Soon shalt thou launch in peace thy weary bark, Waked by rude waves no more from gentle dreams, Sadly to feel that earth to thee is dark— Not bright as once; O, vain, vain memories, cease, I cast your burden down—I strive for peace.
I heed the warning voice: oh, spurn me not, My early friend; let the bruised heart go free: Mine were high fancies, but a wayward lot Hath made my youthful dreams in sadness flee; Then chide not, I would linger yet awhile, Thinking o'er wasted hours, a weary train, Cheered by the moon's soft light, the sun's glad smile, Watching the blue sky o'er my path of pain, Waiting nay summons: whose shall be the eye To glance unkindly—I have come to die!
Sweet words—to die! O, pleasant, pleasant sounds, What bright revealings to my heart they bring; What melody, unheard in earth's dull rounds, And floating from the land of glorious Spring The eternal home! my weary thoughts revive, Fresh flowers my mind puts forth, and buds of love, Gentle and kindly thoughts for all that live, Fanned by soft breezes from the world above: And pausing not, I hasten to my rest— Again, O, gentle summons, thou art blest!
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=Catharine Ann Warfield.=