« PreviousContinue »
WITHDRAW not yet those lips and fingers, Whose touch to mine is rapture's spell; Life's joy for us a moment lingers,
And death seems in the word-farewell. The hour that bids us part and go, It sounds not yet, oh! no, no, no.
Time, whilst I gaze upon thy sweetness,
Flies like a courser nigh the goal; To-morrow where shall be his fleetness, soul?
When thou art parted from my Our hearts shall beat, our tears shall flow,
But not together-no, no, no!
THE LAST MAN.
ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The Sun himself must die,
Before this mortal shall assume
I saw a vision in my sleep,
That gave my spirit strength to sweep
Adown the gulph of Time!
I saw the last of human mould,
That shall Creation's death behold,
As Adam saw her prime!
The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The Earth with age was wan,
The skeletons of nations were
Around that lonely man!
Some had expired in fight,-the brands
In plague and famine some!
Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high,
That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm pass'd by,
Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun,
Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
'Tis Mercy bids thee go.
For thou ten thousand thousand
Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow.
What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;
And arts that made fire, flood, and earth,
The vassals of his will ;
Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,
Thou dim discrowned king of day:
For all those trophied arts
And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Heal'd not a passion or a pang
Entail'd on human hearts.
Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men,
Nor with thy rising beams recall
Life's tragedy again.
Its piteous pageants bring not back,
Of pain anew to writhe;
Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd,
Ev'n I am weary in yon skies
Test of all sumless agonies,
Behold not me expire.
My lips that speak thy dirge of death— Their rounded gasp and girgling breath