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Homesick In Heaven

By Oliver Wendell Holmes

Topics: classic

THE DIVINE VOICE     Go seek thine earth-born sisters, - thus the Voice     That all obey, - the sad and silent three;     These only, while the hosts of Heaven rejoice,     Smile never; ask them what their sorrows be;     And when the secret of their griefs they tell,     Look on them with thy mild, half-human eyes;     Say what thou wast on earth; thou knowest well;     So shall they cease from unavailing sighs.     THE ANGEL     Why thus, apart, - the swift-winged herald spake, -     Sit ye with silent lips and unstrung lyres     While the trisagion's blending chords awake     In shouts of joy from all the heavenly choirs?     FIRST SPIRIT     Chide not thy sisters, - thus the answer came; -     Children of earth, our half-weaned nature clings     To earth's fond memories, and her whispered name     Untunes our quivering lips, our saddened strings;     For there we loved, and where we love is home,     Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts,     Though o'er us shine the jasper-lighted dome: -     The chain may lengthen, but it never parts!     Sometimes a sunlit sphere comes rolling by,     And then we softly whisper, - can it be?     And leaning toward the silvery orb, we try     To hear the music of its murmuring sea;     To catch, perchance, some flashing glimpse of green,     Or breathe some wild-wood fragrance, wafted through     The opening gates of pearl, that fold between     The blinding splendors and the changeless blue.     THE ANGEL     Nay, sister, nay! a single healing leaf     Plucked from the bough of yon twelve-fruited tree     Would soothe such anguish, - deeper stabbing grief     Has pierced thy throbbing heart -     THE FIRST SPIRIT     Ah, woe is me! I from my clinging babe was rudely torn;     His tender lips a loveless bosom pressed;     Can I forget him in my life new born?     Oh that my darling lay upon my breast!     THE ANGEL     And thou? -     THE SECOND SPIRIT     I was a fair and youthful bride,     The kiss of love still burns upon my cheek,     He whom I worshipped, ever at my side, -     Him through the spirit realm in vain I seek.     Sweet faces turn their beaming eyes on mine;     Ah! not in these the wished-for look I read;     Still for that one dear human smile I pine;     Thou and none other! - is the lover's creed.     THE ANGEL     And whence thy sadness in a world of bliss     Where never parting comes, nor mourner's tear?     Art thou, too, dreaming of a mortal's kiss     Amid the seraphs of the heavenly sphere?     THE THIRD SPIRIT     Nay, tax not me with passion's wasting fire;     When the swift message set my spirit free,     Blind, helpless, lone, I left my gray-haired sire;     My friends were many, he had none save me.     I left him, orphaned, in the starless night;     Alas, for him no cheerful morning's dawn     I wear the ransomed spirit's robe of white,     Yet still I hear him moaning, She is gone!     THE ANGEL     Ye know me not, sweet sisters? - All in vain     Ye seek your lost ones in the shapes they wore;     The flower once opened may not bud again,     The fruit once fallen finds the stem no more.     Child, lover, sire, - yea, all things loved below, -     Fair pictures damasked on a vapor's fold, -     Fade like the roseate flush, the golden glow,     When the bright curtain of the day is rolled.     I was the babe that slumbered on thy breast.     And, sister, mine the lips that called thee bride.     Mine were the silvered locks thy hand caressed,     That faithful hand, my faltering footstep's guide!     Each changing form, frail vesture of decay,     The soul unclad forgets it once hath worn,     Stained with the travel of the weary day,     And shamed with rents from every wayside thorn.     To lie, an infant, in thy fond embrace, -     To come with love's warm kisses back to thee, -     To show thine eyes thy gray-haired father's face,     Not Heaven itself could grant; this may not be!     Then spread your folded wings, and leave to earth     The dust once breathing ye have mourned so long,     Till Love, new risen, owns his heavenly birth,     And sorrow's discords sweeten into song!

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"THE DIVINE VOICE..."

Exploring the themes of classic, Oliver Wendell Holmes delivers a powerful performance in "Homesick In Heaven"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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"THE DIVINE VOICE..." by Oliver Wendell Holmes

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Oliver Wendell Holmes

About Oliver Wendell Holmes

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. (1809–1894) was an American poet, physician, and essayist. His poems "Old Ironsides" and "The Chambered Nautilus" are American classics. He was part of the Fireside Poets group.

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