Beloved

Mortal, if thou art beloved

Life's offences are removed;

All the fateful things that checked thee,

Hearten, hallow, and protect thee.

Grow'st thou mellow? What is age?

Tinct on life's illumined page,

Where the purple letters glow

Deeper, painted long ago.

What is sorrow? Comfort's prime,

Love's choice Indian summer clime.

Sickness!—thou wilt pray it worse

For so blessed, balmy nurse.

And for death! when thou art dying

'Twill be Love beside thee lying.

Death is lonesome? Oh, how brave

Shows the foot-frequented grave!

Heaven itself is but the casket

For Love's treasure, ere he ask it,—

Ere with burning heart he follow,

Piercing through corruption's hollow.

If thou art beloved, oh then

Fear no grief from mortal men.