As you love me, let there be
No mourning when I go,-
No tearful eyes, no hopeless sighs,
No woe, nor even sadness.
Indeed I would not have you sad,
For I myself shall be full of glad,
With the high triumphant gladness
Of a soul made free.
Of Gods sweet liberty
No windows darkened for my own
Will be flung wide as ne’er before,
To catch the radiant in pour
Of love that shall in full atone
For all the ills that I have done.
And the good things left undone
No voices hushed: my own, full flushed
With an immortal hope, will rise
In ecstasies of new born bliss
And joyful melodies.
Rather, or your sweet courtesy,
Rejoice with me
At my soul’s losing from captivity.
Wish me ‘Bon Voyage’ as you do a friend
Whose joyous visit finds it’s happy end
And bid me both ‘Adieu’ and ‘Au revoir’
Since, though I come no more
I shall be waiting there to greet you
At His Door.
And, as the feet of the bearers tread
The ways I trod,
Think not of me as dead, but rather –
Happy, thrice happy, she whose course is sped!
She has gone home.
John Oxenham (1852 – 1941)
