Phoebe Carey

Sept 4, 1824 - 1871


A Time To Die

by Phoebe Carey

Like the music deep and solemn
In some ruined church,
Floating over crumbling column
And fallen arch;
Through the naked branches trailing
Low on the ground,
Come the winds of autumn wailing
With a ghostly sound.

Over all below a feeling
Of quiet reigns,
Like a drowsy numbness stealing
Through the veins.
Even the sun, in the dim haze mourning,
Hides his head,
Like a sickly taper burning
Beside the dead.

And all day one feeling busy
In my soul hath wrought,
Till heart and brain are dizzy
With the solemn thought.
In the shadow of deep dejection
I sit and sigh,
With but one sad reflection,

O God of the soul immortal!
If death be near,
Teach me to tread that portal
And not to fear.
Keep thou my feet from turning
Aside to die;
Let my lamp be filled and burning


The Poems Of Phoebe Carey
Copyright 187_?
New York: Hurst And Company
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