Lo! the sacred desk where your pastor read, While angels smiled--impending-- There the ceaseless worm hath in silence, fed With your dust, 'tis slowly blending.
God's tables torn from the sacred wall! What hand was so rashly daring? And their whiteness stain'd by the fiend-like scrawl Of some lost spirit--despairing.
Oh, sight of woe!--the altar gone! That spot of the Christian union, Where once ye sought the eternal throne, With the cup of the lov'd communion.
E'en soldiers here, beneath this roof, Have held their midnight orgies, And without hath tramp'd the charger's hoof, Till the grave well nigh disgorges.
Adieu! adieu! lone house of God! I shrink from thy profaning-- The impious foot of war hath trod Where the Prince of Peace was reigning.
I'm standing at thy couch Estelle-- Thy hand in mine--awake my love!-- O'er silent lake and leafy dell Calm eve is sinking from above; Wilt thou not look upon the scene Which from yon casement woos thine eyes? The light shines beauteously between The far off mountains where its last blush dies.
I kiss thee sweet--how cold thy lip!-- How pale thy cheek!--thy brow how white!-- And chill as unsunned flowers that dip Their colorless leaves in dews of night. In vain--in vain I call on thee-- Thou answerest not that once loved call-- Thou hast no word--no look for me-- How heavily from mine thy hand doth fall!
Yet dearest, while I gaze on thee, Whom I have loved so long--so well-- It seems not all reality That I have lost thee quite, Estelle. I have a sense, though vague and dim, Of something which my heart hath stilled-- The formless shadow of a dream That with oppressive thoughts my mind hath filled.
The mist is fading--yet so fair! Can this be death?--this, beauteous sleep!-- Yes!--Yes!--and they will lay thee where The earth is damp and worms do creep-- Oh! God!--that reptiles--horrid thought!-- Must banquet on those lovely limbs, Whose faultless outline, seemeth not Traced for this world of dark and sullen dreams.
It must be so--the grave--the grave Relentless swallows all we love,-- Mind--Beauty--Virtue--naught can save-- And yet there is a God above!-- I only know--I only feel Thou'rt doomed to be the earthworm's prey, The newt will o'er thy bosom steal, And loathsome things through thy rich tresses stray.