HE sun is burning with intensest light
Behind yon grove; and in the golden glow
Of unconsuming fire, it doth show
Like to the bush, in which to Moses' sight
The Lord appeared! and oh, am I not right
In thinking that he reappears e'en now
To me, in the old glory?-and I bow
My head, in wonder hush'd behold His might!
Yea, this whole world so vast, to faith's clear eye,
Is but the burning bush full of His power!
His light, and glory; not consumed thereby,
But made transparent; till in each least flower,
Yea! in each smallest leaf, she can descry
His Spirit shining through it visibly!
TWO INFINITIES
Edward Dowden
LONELY way, and as I went my eyes Could not unfasten from the spring's sweet things,
Lush-sprouted grass, and all that climbs
and clings
In loose, deep hedges, where the primrose lies
In her own fairness, buried blooms surprise
The plunderer bee and stop his murmurings,
And the glad flutter of a finch's wings
Outstartle small blue-speckled butterflies.
Blissfully did one speedwell plot beguile
My whole heart long; I loved each separate flower
Kneeling. I looked up suddenly-Dear God!
There stretched the shining plain for many a mile,
The mountains rose with what invincible power!
And how the sky was fathomless and broad!
AFTER DEATH IN ARABIA Sir Edwin Arnold
E who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all his friends:
Faithful friends! It lies, I know,
Pale and white and cold as snow;
And ye say, "Abdallah's dead!"
Weeping at the foot and head,
I can see your falling tears,
I can hear your sighs and prayers;
Yet I smile and whisper this, -
"I am not the thing you kiss;
Cease your tears, and let it lie;
It was mine, it is not I."
Sweet friends! What the women lave
For its last bed of the grave,
Is a tent which I am quitting,
Is a garment no more fitting,
Is a cage from which, at last,
Like a hawk my soul hath pass'd.
Love the inmate, not the room, -
The wearer, not the garb, -the plume
Of the falcon, not the bars
Which kept him from these splendid stars.
After Death in Arabia
Loving friends! Be wise and dry
Straightway every weeping eye, -
What ye lift upon the bier
Is not worth a wistful tear.
'Tis an empty sea-shell, -one
Out of which the pearl is gone;
The shell is broken, it lies there;
The pearl, the all, the soul, is here.
'Tis an earthen jar whose lid
Allah seal'd, the while it hid
That treasure of his treasury
A mind that lov'd him; let it lie!
Let the shard be earth's once more,
Since the gold shines in his store!
Allah glorious! Allah good!
Now thy world is understood;
Now the long, long wonder ends;
Yet ye weep, my erring friends,
While the man whom ye call dead
In unspoken bliss, instead,
Lives and loves you; lost, 'tis true,
By such light as shines for you;
But in light ye cannot see
Of unfulfill'd felicity, -
In enlarging paradise,
Lives a life that never dies.
Farewell, friends! Yet not farewell;
Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell.
I am gone before your face,
A moment's time, a little space.
When ye come where I have stepp'd
Ye will wonder why ye wept;
Ye will know, by wise love taught,
That here is all, and there is naught.
Weep awhile, if ye are fain, -
Sunshine still must follow rain;
Only not at death, -for death,
Now I know, is that first breath
Which our souls draw when we enter
Life, which is of all life center.
Be ye certain all seems love,
Viewed from Allah's throne above;
Be ye stout of heart and come
Bravely onward to your home!
La Allah illa Allah! yea!
Thou love divine! Thou love alway!
He that died at Azan gave
This to those that made his grave.
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