Monody (Read at the Funeral of Mrs. Frances Caroline Frost)

ONE gate alone, the gate of mortal Birth, 
Leads us, through suffering, to the life of earth,
 But gladness follows the quick feet of pain, 
And love maternal counts another gain.
One entrance only the Life-Angel gave
To his new realm — the portal of the grave;
Shall not the love that met us at the door
Of untried life turn pain to bliss once more, 
And Death's white Angel, with his torch reversed, 
Lead to a Home diviner than the first?

The life we entered here was dark as night, 
But love was over us with her starry light;
Not darker — even to those who dare despond—
Is the new birth into a world beyond.
Nay, every foot-fall in our brief career 
By faith alone is guided, now and here.
The soul once taught to pierce the initial gloom
Need fear no shadow of the final tomb.
The human loves that o'er the cradle gleam 
Are living symbols of a Love Supreme, 
And the Great Mother of all tenderness 
Shall brood the grave-born with her warm caress.

Pure love is dateless, as it is divine,
Knowing no mortal end and no decline;
It clings unwearied, faithful to its own, 
Here in the unseen, or yonder in the unknown.
Love answers love, as vibrant harp-strings tell 
What wandering waves of music o'er them swell.
The trembling needle seeks the hidden pole;
So to its unseen kindred moves the soul;
No star in heaven around a void can turn:
No heart on earth to hollow darkness yearn;
We live by love, and long as love survives
No fate nor gulf can part our wedded lives!

To-day we gather, hushed in solemn awe, 
O'er the great mystery of the unyielding law 
That draws a veil between our souls on earth 
And the freed spirit's immaterial birth.
The Well-beloved, escaped her wasted form,
Leaves the cold heart her love no more can warm.
Yet every pulse-beat in our bosom yearns 
To life where still the old affection burns.
Here, by the ashes of a heart so pure, 
I cannot doubt that hallowed loves endure.
Sweet as the breath of lilies was the flow 
Of its warm currents over want and woe;
And strong for trampled Right as ocean tides,
Yet calm as heaven's white orb that o'er them rides.
With prudent counsels and a ready hand
She wrought in struggling Truth's devoted band;
Her woman's heart felt every woman's wrong, 
And plead for justice,— ah, delayed so long!

Slender and fair, Home's love-anointed Queen, 
She reigned by serving in her realm serene ;
The pure simplicity of a vestal soul
Ordered the cares of life with sweet control,
And they who rose to call her blest, remain 
To count her presence an eternal gain.

And One,— ah, me! shall not my spirit's eye 
Pierce for a moment the dim veil on high, 
To see that one, a radiant Maiden now, 
Meet the pale Mother wafted from below, 
The sweet child-features beaming through the face 
Matured to more than earthly maiden-grace?
Ah! mother-love had never loosed its hold!
And mother-arms the new-found daughter fold!

Dear Heart, foregone! we would not say adieu, 
But still more closely the old ties renew;
With reverent hands thy sacred dust enclose
In earth's pure arms forever to repose;
Feeling thy spirit from its veiled zone
Breathe benedictions sweetly to our own,
We cry,— with tenderer love enfolding thee,—
"O, Death, where is thy sting? Where, Grave, thy victory?"