Poetry Archives

From the heavenly, clear, invisible, home
Our voices come:
No joy can resemble the joy which reigns
In our seraph veins.
Lov’d ones, lov’d ones, weep for us not,
Soon shall ye here partake of our lot;
High o’er the stars’ extremest line
The sun of affection more bright shall shine:
Brothers, brothers, ‘t is sweet to die
For the land of our birth, and the maid of our eye.
Blest are ye who like us shall fall;
The righteous Jehovah rewards, above,
Courage and love:
Hallelujah, peace be with you all!