Who comes (my soul no longer doubt),
Rising from earth's wormy sod,
And whilst ten thousand angels sing,
Ascends - ascends to heaven, a God?
Saviour, Lord, I know thee now!
Mighty to redeem and save,
Such glory blazes on thy brow,
Which lights the darkness of the grave.
Saviour, Lord, the human soul,
Forgotten every sorrow here,
Shall thus, aspiring to its goal,
Triumph in its native sphere.
Easter Day. (from The Villager's Verse-book.)
William Lisle Bowles
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Poem topics: god, heaven, sorrow, earth, human, doubt, goal, sphere, triumph, grave, save, native, soul, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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