Poems (Edwards)/The Last Dream

THE LAST DREAM.

It was a darkened chamber. Lightly moved
The silent watchers round the Sleeper's bed,
And gazed upon her with a love too deep,
Too strong for utterance. Silently she lay
In hushed and holy slumber. Soft and low
The quick breath fluttered on her pale white lips
Like a caged bird that struggles to be free
From its close thraldom. Ever and anon
A crystal tear from her fringed eyelids stole,
And, like a dewdrop, trembled on her cheek,
That lay in its dim beauty, as a leaf
Shook by the rude breath of the summer breeze
From the sweet lily's bosom,—lovelier in its fall
Than in its early freshness. Rich, dark curls
Lay on her snow-white pillow, shading softly
The deadly paleness of her languid face;
They fell in graceful ringlets round her brow,
That, white as polished ivory, reposed
In its calm beauty on one wasted hand,
Which, through the ringlets of her dark hair, gleamed
Like alabaster. Death, stern death was there,
Upon that lovely Sleeper. Even there
Upon that calm white brow and faded cheek,
His signet he was sealing. Yet a smile—
A smile of radiant beauty wreathed her lips,
And joy was in her bosom; for her dreams
Were of her loved and lost ones. Night by night
Their shrouded forms had gathered round her bed,
With their low whispers calling her away
To their veiled homes, far in the spirit land.
Gently her lips moved
With a scarce breathed murmur; and the thoughts
That long had filled her bosom now gushed forth
In low and plaintive numbers.

"From whence do ye come, ye shrouded band,
From whence do ye come, ah! say,
Have ye left your homes in the spirit-land,
Around my couch to stray?

Ye are whispering memories of old,
Ye are telling of other days,
And I know, aye, I know, that you love me yet,
By your long and earnest gaze.

Say, where is your home, ye spirit band,
Where rest ye when night has fled,
Say where do you roam? Ye pass away,
And I hear not the sound of your tread?

I meet the glance of your loving eyes,
And T hear each familiar tone,
But ah! when I wake from my nightly dreams,
I am startled to find you gone.

I catch the gleam of your sunny brows
As ye turn from my couch away,
And I long to gaze on your forms again,
But ye will not, ye will not stay.

From whence do ye come, ye fairy ones,
When ye people my dreams at night;
Do ye come, do ye come from the world above,
From the glorious land of light?

I know that ye live, but I know not where,
Ye gentle and holy band!
Oh! guard me, still guard me, ye blessed throng
'Till I enter the spirit land."

Closer round her bed
The bright throng gathered, and with earnest eyes
They gazed far down into the Dreamer's soul
With more of joy than sorrow. Soft and low
Her plaintive lay they answered. And their songs,
Unheard by mortals, pealed along the skies
In sweet and tuneful echoes.

"Dreamer we are ever near you,
Watching you with earnest eyes,
Bending, with our love unaltered,
From the portals of the skies.

Fondly we have gathered round you,
Whispering to you through the night,
With our low and solemn voices,
Holy dreams of joy and light.

Loved one! we are with you ever,
In your thoughts we love to stray,
Breathing to you hopes of Heaven,
Where all tears are wiped away.

Life with you is almost over,
Your departure is at hand,
We are waiting now to lead you,
Upward to the promised land.

There, no doubt, nor pain can reach you,
There no lowering cloud shall come,
Heaven is opening to receive you,
Suffering one! Come home, come home."

A change passed o'er the quiet Dreamer's brow,
A change like morning bright'ning into noon,
A smile of rapture played upon her cheek,
And lighted up her face with such deep joy,
That human love, with breathless awe, bent down
In holy admiration. One brief cloud
Of untold anguish o'er her features swept—
One bitter moment. And the Dreamer slept
The "sleep that knows no waking." She had passed
From time into eternity.