Are his whose heart, alive to beauty,

Yet dies to it and lives for duty.

IV.

Revoke Not.

Long is it since they ceased to look on light,

To thrill with hope in our fond human way.

Why grudge them rest in their sweet ancient night,

Ungrieved, if never gay,

Eased from Life's sorry day?

Is it because at times when storms subside

Through which thou oarest Life's ill-fitted bark,

Dreams rise, from sounds of lapping of the tide,

To veil the daylight stark,

Its anguish and its cark?

What was their joy here? Absence of great pain?

Some music in lamentings of the wind?

The mystic whispers of the dripping rain?

Sad yearnings toward their kind?

Ruth for old loves that pined?

For these would'st thou revoke their flawless rest?

 Prev. P 18/27 next