The Christian Pauper's Death-Bed Poem by Caroline Anne Bowles Southey

The Christian Pauper's Death-Bed

Rating: 1.8


Tread softly - bow the head -
In rev'rent silence bow -
No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul
IS passing now.

Stranger! however great,
With lowly rev'rence bow;
There's one in that poor shed -
One by that paltry bed -
Greater than thou.

Beneath that beggar's roof,
Lo! Death doth keep his state,
Enter - no crowds attend -
Enter - no guards defend

This
palace gate.

That pavement, damp and cold,
No smiling courtiers tread;
One silent woman stands,
Lifting with meagre hands
A dying head.

No mingling voices sound-
An infant wail alone;
A sob suppress'd - again
That short deep gasp, and then -
The parting groan.

Oh! change - oh, wondrous change,
Burst are the prison bars-
This moment
there
, so low,
So agonised - and now
Beyond the stars.

Oh! change - stupendous change!
There lies the soulless clod;
The sun eternal breaks -
The new immortal wakes -
Wakes with his God.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success