OOH, blue and glad the summer skies,And golden green the widths of plainWhere sun and shadow mingled lay,As forth we went, with gay intent,Across the Mesa’s flowery rise,To where the shimmering mountain chainBeckoned and shone from far away!The noontide flashed, the noontide sang,Along the glittering distant track;The dancing wind made answer brave.It seemed that all kept festival,That joy fires burned and joy bells rang;But still our hearts went hovering backTo sit beside one lonely grave.It seems so strange, so half unkind,That still the earth with life should stir,That still we smile, and still we jest.And drink our share of sun and airAnd joy—and leave her there behind;Nor share such happy things with herWho always gave us all her best!And yet—our love is loyal still;And yet—she joyed to have us gay;And yet—the moving world moves on,And does not wait our sad estate,To soothe our hurt or note our ill,But, touch by touch, and day by day,Heals us, and changes every one.But she? What is her work to do?For never tell me that she liesInactive, lifeless, in the mould,Content to keep a moveless sleepWhile worlds revolve in courses new.Her fiery zeal, her quick emprise,Could never brook such rest to hold!That grave but hides her worn-out dress,—One of God’s sure-winged messengersI see her, on swift errand sped,Glad of the task which strong souls ask,Earth’s sharpest pain grown littlenessIn the new tide of life made hers,Smiling that we should call her dead!Smile on, dear Heart, until the dawn!When once the eternal heights are bared,And the long earthly shadows flit,And with clear eyes we front the skies,We too shall smile with heavenly scornAt the dull, human selves who daredTo call life “Death” and pity it!
OOH, blue and glad the summer skies,And golden green the widths of plainWhere sun and shadow mingled lay,As forth we went, with gay intent,Across the Mesa’s flowery rise,To where the shimmering mountain chainBeckoned and shone from far away!The noontide flashed, the noontide sang,Along the glittering distant track;The dancing wind made answer brave.It seemed that all kept festival,That joy fires burned and joy bells rang;But still our hearts went hovering backTo sit beside one lonely grave.It seems so strange, so half unkind,That still the earth with life should stir,That still we smile, and still we jest.And drink our share of sun and airAnd joy—and leave her there behind;Nor share such happy things with herWho always gave us all her best!And yet—our love is loyal still;And yet—she joyed to have us gay;And yet—the moving world moves on,And does not wait our sad estate,To soothe our hurt or note our ill,But, touch by touch, and day by day,Heals us, and changes every one.But she? What is her work to do?For never tell me that she liesInactive, lifeless, in the mould,Content to keep a moveless sleepWhile worlds revolve in courses new.Her fiery zeal, her quick emprise,Could never brook such rest to hold!That grave but hides her worn-out dress,—One of God’s sure-winged messengersI see her, on swift errand sped,Glad of the task which strong souls ask,Earth’s sharpest pain grown littlenessIn the new tide of life made hers,Smiling that we should call her dead!Smile on, dear Heart, until the dawn!When once the eternal heights are bared,And the long earthly shadows flit,And with clear eyes we front the skies,We too shall smile with heavenly scornAt the dull, human selves who daredTo call life “Death” and pity it!
OOH, blue and glad the summer skies,And golden green the widths of plainWhere sun and shadow mingled lay,As forth we went, with gay intent,Across the Mesa’s flowery rise,To where the shimmering mountain chainBeckoned and shone from far away!
O
OH, blue and glad the summer skies,
And golden green the widths of plain
Where sun and shadow mingled lay,
As forth we went, with gay intent,
Across the Mesa’s flowery rise,
To where the shimmering mountain chain
Beckoned and shone from far away!
The noontide flashed, the noontide sang,Along the glittering distant track;The dancing wind made answer brave.It seemed that all kept festival,That joy fires burned and joy bells rang;But still our hearts went hovering backTo sit beside one lonely grave.
The noontide flashed, the noontide sang,
Along the glittering distant track;
The dancing wind made answer brave.
It seemed that all kept festival,
That joy fires burned and joy bells rang;
But still our hearts went hovering back
To sit beside one lonely grave.
It seems so strange, so half unkind,That still the earth with life should stir,That still we smile, and still we jest.And drink our share of sun and airAnd joy—and leave her there behind;Nor share such happy things with herWho always gave us all her best!
It seems so strange, so half unkind,
That still the earth with life should stir,
That still we smile, and still we jest.
And drink our share of sun and air
And joy—and leave her there behind;
Nor share such happy things with her
Who always gave us all her best!
And yet—our love is loyal still;And yet—she joyed to have us gay;And yet—the moving world moves on,And does not wait our sad estate,To soothe our hurt or note our ill,But, touch by touch, and day by day,Heals us, and changes every one.
And yet—our love is loyal still;
And yet—she joyed to have us gay;
And yet—the moving world moves on,
And does not wait our sad estate,
To soothe our hurt or note our ill,
But, touch by touch, and day by day,
Heals us, and changes every one.
But she? What is her work to do?For never tell me that she liesInactive, lifeless, in the mould,Content to keep a moveless sleepWhile worlds revolve in courses new.Her fiery zeal, her quick emprise,Could never brook such rest to hold!
But she? What is her work to do?
For never tell me that she lies
Inactive, lifeless, in the mould,
Content to keep a moveless sleep
While worlds revolve in courses new.
Her fiery zeal, her quick emprise,
Could never brook such rest to hold!
That grave but hides her worn-out dress,—One of God’s sure-winged messengersI see her, on swift errand sped,Glad of the task which strong souls ask,Earth’s sharpest pain grown littlenessIn the new tide of life made hers,Smiling that we should call her dead!
That grave but hides her worn-out dress,—
One of God’s sure-winged messengers
I see her, on swift errand sped,
Glad of the task which strong souls ask,
Earth’s sharpest pain grown littleness
In the new tide of life made hers,
Smiling that we should call her dead!
Smile on, dear Heart, until the dawn!When once the eternal heights are bared,And the long earthly shadows flit,And with clear eyes we front the skies,We too shall smile with heavenly scornAt the dull, human selves who daredTo call life “Death” and pity it!
Smile on, dear Heart, until the dawn!
When once the eternal heights are bared,
And the long earthly shadows flit,
And with clear eyes we front the skies,
We too shall smile with heavenly scorn
At the dull, human selves who dared
To call life “Death” and pity it!