Death

'Tis but to fold the arms in peace,
    To close the tear-dimmed, aching eye,
From sin and suffering to cease,
    And wake to sinless life on high.

'Tis but to leave the dusty way
    Our pilgrim feet so long have pressed,
And passon angel-wings away,
    Forever with the Lord to rest.

'Tis but with noiseless step to glide
    Behind the curtain's mystic screen
That from our mortal gaze doth hide
    The glories of the world unseen.

Tis but to sleep a passing hour,
    Serene as cradled infants sleep;
Then wake in glory and in power,
    An endless Sabbath day to keep.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

A Parting Hymn.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Looking Back

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

By And By

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The White Stone Canoe

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Gone Before

(IN MEMORY OF A PUPIL)


            Thou art but gone before -
            Gone to that unknown shore
Toward which my feet are journeying swiftly on
            Thou hast but laid thy head
            First with the dreamless dead,
I, too, shall come, and share thy rest anon.

            Methinks 'twas sweet to die,
            Ere childhood's purity
Had been polluted by sin's withering breath;
            Ere Care's pale, haggard mien
            Thy laughing eye had seen,
Or thou hadst wept beside the bed of death!

            We weep - yet thou art blest!
            We mourn - but thou'rt at rest!
Well may we weep, yet, lost one, not for thee!
            Not that thy race is run,
            Thy brief life-journey...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Brother, Rest.

IN MEMORY OF THE REV. J. E. V.


Rest, brother, rest! Thy eyes no more shall weep
    O'er unhealed anguish and unconquered sin;
Thy peaceful slumber, tranquilized and deep,
    Is marred no more by Earth's discordant din.
Calm are the skies above thy quiet bed,
    And calm is Earth in Summer-glories dressed,
And cool and sweet the fresh mould richly spread
    Above thy folded hands and peaceful breast.

Oh, could my voice thy placid slumber break,
    And win thee back to mortal scenes again, -
Bid thee, unblamed, thy heavenly paths forsake,
    Once more to walk with me 'mid care and pain,
I could not, dare not breathe the word, for thou
    Hast long enough toiled where the dark curse lies
On all Earth's fairest fruitage; - brother, now
   ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Lines On The Death Of A Young Mother

    A voice missed by the dear home-hearth -
A voice of music and gentle mirth -
A voice whose lingering sweetness long
Will float through many a Sabbath song,
And many a hallowed, evening hymn,
Tenderly breathed in the twilight dim!
- But that missing voice, with a richer tone,
Is heard in the anthems before the throne;
And another voice and another lyre,
Are added now to the angel-choir!

    There's a missing face when the board is spread -
There's a vacant seat at the table's head, -
A watchful eye and a helpful hand
That will come no more to that broken band.
- But she sits to-day at the board above,
In the tender light of a holier love;
And the kindling eye and the beaming face
At the feast on high hold a nobler place!

    A form is ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Drowned

[Footnote: In the Grand River, at Brantford, July 30th, 1875, Miss Jessie Hamilton, adopted daughter of C.H. Waterous, Esq., Brantford, aged 14 years and 3 months, and Miss Ella E. Murton, only daughter of John W. Murton, Esq., Hamilton, aged 14 years.]


    The morning dawned without a cloud,
But evening came with pall and shroud, -
With muffled step, and bated breath,
And mournful whisperings of - death!

            *            *            *

    Young lips, that in the morning sung
The summer's opening flowers among,
Were hushed and cold; - young, laughing eyes,
That met the dawn with sweet surprise,
Were darkly sealed; - young feet, that pressed
The dewy turf with glad unrest,
Were cold and stirless, never more
To tread the paths they trod ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

At The Grave Of A Young Mother

        A transient day,
        A troubled night,
        The swift decay,
        The certain blight,
And death and dust; -

        And are these all? -
        Nay: those are past;
        And she who sleeps
        Shall wake at last
Among the just!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Rest In Heaven

When tossed on time's tempestuous tide,
    By angry storms resistless driven,
One hope can bid our fears subside -
    It is the hope of rest in Heaven.

With trusting heart we lift our eyes
    Above the dark clouds, tempest-driven,
And view, beyond those troubled skies,
    The peaceful, stormless rest of Heaven.

No more to shed the exile's tears, -
    No more the heart by anguish riven, -
No longer bent 'neath toilful years, -
    How sweet will be the rest of Heaven

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)