“CAN the soul die, believe you?
Because it seems to me
My soul is dead and buried,
So still it seems to be.
“It quivers not with joy;
It moaneth not with pain;
There is no note in nature
Awakens it again.
“Those white clouds in the azure;
Those lanes; those breezy trees;
Those softly gliding swallows;
Those fluted melodies;
“Those shadows in the meadows,
Running a fitful race;
With pleasure once they thrilled me,
But coldly now I gaze.”
Fear not; oh! not so lightly
The soul of mortal dies;
It has but wept itself to sleep,
And all unconscious lies.
The surging feelings overwrought,
They have but ebbed away,
And left the soul a little while
With all their changeful spray.
But stronger, deeper, fuller, in
The billowy tide will roll,
And overflood, with life and love,
The ever living soul.
(Mathilde Blind)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Soul Poems, Nature Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Pain Poems, Sleep Poems, Belief & Faith Poems, Lies & Deceit Poems, Running PoemsBased on Keywords: overwrought, moaneth, overflood