The Soul's Yearning

Thoughts of clasp'd hands and unrememb'ring eyes,
White breathless lips, and all the signs that show
The weary soul at length has done with woe;
The silence after death, the peace that lies
Upon the veiled lids of whoso dies, —
These thoughts, that but a little while ago
Seem'd sad and bitter, now most tender grow;
And sleep but hints what death can realize:

And yet sometimes the soul, unsatisfied,
Will cry, " When I for so long time have striven.
Endured so much, and overcome so much.
Shall no love clasp me on the deathward side?"
Such thoughts are hard to bear with, and yet such
Point more, I think, than any creed to Heaven!