Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)
Be Not Dismayed
Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face. Poor human nature for a little space Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath Leaves such long silence; but let not thy faith Fail for a moment in God’s boundless grace. But know, oh know, He has prepared a place Fairer for our dear dead than worlds beneath, Yet not beneath; for those entrancing spheres Surround our earth as seas a barren isle. Ours is the region of eternal fears; Theirs is the region where God’s radiant smile Shines outward from the centre, and gives hope Even to those who in the shadows grope. They are not far from us. At first though long And lone may seem the paths that intervene, If ever on the staff of prayer we lean The silence will grow eloquent with song And our weak faith with certitude wax strong. Intense, yet tranquil; fervent, yet serene, He must be who would contact World Unseen And comrade with their Amaranthine throng; Not through the tossing waves of surging grief Come spirit-ships to port. When storms subside, Then with their precious cargoes of relief Into the harbour of the heart they glide. For him who will believe and trust and wait
Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s other poems:
