Sonnet Xxxi. On The Same Occasion. Poem by Henry Alford

Could I for once be so in love with gloom
As to leave off with cold mortality,--
To finish with the deep peace of the tomb,
And the sealed darkness of the withering eye?
And could I look on thee, thou calm retreat,
And never once think of the joyous morn,
Which, bursting through the dark our eyes shall greet
With heavenly sunshine on the instant born?
O glorious time! then may we wake at length,
After life's tempest, under a clear sky,
And count our band, and find with keenest joy,
None wanting,--love preserved in all its strength;
And, with fresh beauty, hand in hand arise,
A link in the bright chain of ransomed families.