Reincarnation

It cannot be that He who made This wondrous world for our delight, Designed that all its charms should fade And pass forever from our sight; That all shall wither and decay, And know on earth no life but this, With only one finite survey Of all its beauty and its bliss. It cannot be that all the years Of toil and care and grief we live Shall find no recompense but tears, No sweet return that earth can give; That all that leads us to aspire, And struggle onward to achieve, And every unattained desire Were given only to deceive. It cannot be that, after all The mighty conquests of the mind, Our thoughts shall pass beyond recall And leave no record here behind; That all our dreams of love and fame, And hopes that time has swept away,— All that enthralled this mortal frame,— Shall not return some other day. It cannot be that all the ties Of kindred souls and loving hearts Are broken when this body dies, And the immortal mind departs; That no serener light shall break At last upon our mortal eyes, To guide us as our footsteps make The pilgrimage to Paradise.