A Cheerless Hour.
Its shining bright, yes, every ray;
Why sounds that wind so mournfully__
It's breezes blow quite silently.
Why do the trees, the fields, the streets,
The very earth beneath our feet__
All, everything, wear a blackened pall:
Why is it, cannot some one tell?
A household has been rent in twain,
A loved one gone to that long home:
A loved one sleeps the sleep of death__
And left a home most desolate.
O! can there be a bitterer cup,
And can we, can we drink it up;
Must we bow submissively,
Without a sigh, a groan, a tear?
O no, the tears unbidden flow,
'Tis hard, so hard to part, we know;
'Tis something we can't understand-
But we'll reach out and take His hand.
And He'll lead us across the stream,
To where our loved ones all are gone,
And then we'll see and know and feel
That God who rules does all things well.
Poets and Poetry of Kansas
Edited by Thomas W. Herringshaw
(Chicago: American Publishers' Association. 1894)