"They Are All Gone"

"They Are All Gone"

They are all gone into a world of light,

And I alone sit lingering here;
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breath,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove;
Or those faint beams in which the hill is drest,
After the sun's remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days;
My days which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmerings and decays.
Oh, holy hope and high humility,
High as the heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have showed them me,
To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just,
Shining nowhere but in the dark,
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust;
Could man outlook that mark!
He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest, may know
At first sight if the bird be flown;
But what fair field or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.
And yet as angels, in some brighter dreams,
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.
If a star were confined into a tomb,
Her captive flame must needs burn there;
But when the hand that locked her up gave room,
She'd shine through all the sphere.
Oh, Father of eternal life, and all
Created glories under thee,
Resumed thy spirit from this world of thrall [?]
Into true liberty.
Either disperse these mists, which blot and [?]
My perspective, still, as they pass;
Or else remove me hence unto that hill,
Where I shall need no glass.

Henry Vaughan. Died 1695

New Series 1:49, p. 4

1841.02.06