by Thomas Tyrie, a young Edinburgh poet of great promise, who died of consumption last Spring.
Originally published in The Poet's Magazine (Leonard Lloyd) vol.2 #6 (Feb 1877).
Open the window, the bright sunbeams glisten,
Like golden winged birds, on the leaves of the trees;
Open the window, and, sister dear, listen,
Again as from heaven comes the voice on the breeze.
Yes, yes, sister dearest, I hear a glad chorus,
And this seems the song that is breathed on the air,—
"The glorious kingdom of love is before us,"
And sister, dear sister, we soon shall be there.
One voice in the chorus distinctly grows nearer;
'Tis mother's; she calls me her darling again;
The same gentle music, but sensibly clearer;
O Death! thou hast lost thy last terror and pain!
I hear it; my soul will not part with the token
That she will be yonder to welcome me home,
Where never a heart by a false tone is broken;
Oh listen! the voice sings more audibly, come!
And round me, above me, swells higher the chorus,
The sunlight grows brighter, the blue sky more fair;
The golden gates, sister, swing open before us,
The music grows louder, we soon shall be there!