Reverie ["Only a few more years!"]

Only a few more years!              Weary years!             Only a few more tears!              Bitter tears!     And then -- and then -- like other men,      I cease to wander, cease to weep,      Dim shadows o'er my way shall creep;     And out of the day and into the night,     Into the dark and out of the bright      I go, and Death shall veil my face,      The feet of the years shall fast efface      My very name, and every trace     I leave on earth; for the stern years tread --     Tread out the names of the gone and dead!     And then, ah! then, like other men,      I close my eyes and go to sleep,      Only a few, one hour, shall weep:      Ah! me, the grave is dark and deep!             Alas!    Alas!              How soon we pass!             And ah! we go              So far away;     When go we must,     From the light of Life, and the heat of strife,     To the peace of Death, and the cold, still dust,      We go -- we go -- we may not stay,      We travel the lone, dark, dreary way;     Out of the day and into the night,     Into the darkness, out of the bright.     And then, ah! then, like other men,      We close our eyes and go to sleep;     We hush our hearts and go to sleep;     Only a few, one hour, shall weep:     Ah! me, the grave is lone and deep!     I saw a flower, at morn, so fair;     I passed at eve, it was not there.      I saw a sunbeam, golden bright,      I saw a cloud the sunbeam's shroud,      And I saw night      Digging the grave of day;     And day took off her golden crown,     And flung it sorrowfully down.      Ah! day, the Sun's fair bride!      At twilight moaned and died.     And so, alas! like day we pass:          At morn we smile,          At eve we weep,          At morn we wake,      In night we sleep.     We close our eyes and go to sleep:     Ah! me, the grave is still and deep!             But God is sweet.              My mother told me so,             When I knelt at her feet              Long -- so long -- ago;     She clasped my hands in hers.     Ah! me, that memory stirs      My soul's profoundest deep --      No wonder that I weep.     She clasped my hands and smiled,     Ah! then I was a child --          I knew not harm --          My mother's arm     Was flung around me; and I felt     That when I knelt      To listen to my mother's prayer,      God was with my mother there.     Yea! "God is sweet!"          She told me so;      She never told me wrong;     And through my years of woe     Her whispers soft, and sad, and low,      And sweet as Angel's song,     Have floated like a dream.     And, ah! to-night I seem      A very child in my old, old place,      Beneath my mother's blessed face,     And through each sweet remembered word,     This sweetest undertone is heard:      "My child! my child! our God is sweet,      In Life -- in Death -- kneel at his feet --     Sweet in gladness, sweet in gloom,     Sweeter still beside the tomb."      Why should I wail?    Why ought I weep?      The grave -- it is not dark and deep;     Why should I sigh?    Why ought I moan?     The grave -- it is not still and lone;      Our God is sweet, our grave is sweet,      We lie there sleeping at His feet,     Where the wicked shall from troubling cease,     And weary hearts shall rest in peace!