Dirge : Written November 1808 Analysis

1Pure spirit! O where art thou now!
2O whisper to my soul!
3O let some soothing thought of thee,
4The bitter grief control!

5'Tis not for thee the tears I shed,
6Thy sufferings now are o'er;
7The sea is calm, the tempest past,
8On that eternal shore.

9No more the storms that wrecked thy peace
10Shall tear that gentle breast;
11Nor Summer's rage, nor Winter's cold,
12Thy poor, poor frame molest.

13Thy peace is sealed, thy rest is sure,
14My sorrows are to come;
15Awhile I weep and linger here,
16Then follow to the tomb.

17And is the awful veil withdrawn,
18That shrouds from mortal eyes,
19In deep impenetrable gloom,
20The secrets of the skies?

21O, in some dream of visioned bliss,
22Some trance of rapture, show
23Where, on the bosom of thy God,
24Thou rest'st from human woe!

25Thence may thy pure devotion's flame
26On me, on me descend;
27To me thy strong aspiring hopes,
28They faith, thy fervours lend.

29Let these my lonely path illume,
30And teach my weakened mind
31To welcome all that's left of good,
32To all that's lost resigned.

33Farewell! With honour, peace, and love,
34Be thy dear memory blest!
35Thou hast no tears for me to shed,
36When I too am at rest.

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