English poem
Oh, For A Home Of Rest!
by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney (1801–1881)
Oh, for a home of rest! Time lags alone so slow, so wearily; Couldst thou but smile on me, I should be blest. Alas, alas! that never more may be. Oh, for the sky-lark's wing to soar to thee! This earth I would forsake For starry realms whose sky's forever fair; There, tears are shed not, hearts will cease to ache, And sorrow's plaintive voice shall never break The heavenly stillness that is reigning there. Life's every charm has fled, The world is all a wilderness to me; "For thou art numbered with the silent dead." Oh, how my heart o'er this dark thought has bled! How I have longed for wings to follow thee! In visions of the night With angel smile thou beckon'st me away, Pointing to worlds where hope is free from blight; And then a cloud comes o'er that brow of light, Seeming to chide me for my long delay.
More by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney
- Kindness.
- Life's Stages.
- Lines Suggested By The Conversation Of A Brother And Sister In The Chamber Of A Deceased And Highly Valued Parent.
- Lines Suggested By The Presence Of The English Friends, J. And H. C. Backhouse, In America 1831.
- On A Packet Of Letters.
- On Hearing It Said "That It Was Unreasonable To Suppose Man Should Believe What He Could Not Comprehend."
- On Leaving Pine Cottage.
- On Reading "Gibbon's Rome."