RECESSIONAL

RECESSIONAL

NOW along the solemn heightsFade the Autumn's altar-lights;Down the great earth's glimmering chancelGlide the days and nights.Little kindred of the grass,Like a shadow in a glassFalls the dark and falls the stillness;We must rise and pass.We must rise and follow, wendingWhere the nights and days have ending,—Pass in order pale and slowUnto sleep extending.Little brothers of the clod,Soul of fire and seed of sod,We must fare into the silenceAt the knees of God.Little comrades of the skyWing to wing we wander by,Going, going, going, going,Softly as a sigh.Hark, the moving shapes confer,Globe of dew and gossamer,Fading and ephemeral spiritsIn the dusk astir.Moth and blossom, blade and bee,Worlds must go as well as we,In the long procession joiningMount, and star, and sea.Toward the shadowy brink we climbWhere the round year rolls sublime,Rolls, and drops, and falls foreverIn the vast of time;Like a plummet plunging deepPast the utmost reach of sleep,Till remembrance has no longerCare to laugh or weep.

NOW along the solemn heightsFade the Autumn's altar-lights;Down the great earth's glimmering chancelGlide the days and nights.Little kindred of the grass,Like a shadow in a glassFalls the dark and falls the stillness;We must rise and pass.We must rise and follow, wendingWhere the nights and days have ending,—Pass in order pale and slowUnto sleep extending.Little brothers of the clod,Soul of fire and seed of sod,We must fare into the silenceAt the knees of God.Little comrades of the skyWing to wing we wander by,Going, going, going, going,Softly as a sigh.Hark, the moving shapes confer,Globe of dew and gossamer,Fading and ephemeral spiritsIn the dusk astir.Moth and blossom, blade and bee,Worlds must go as well as we,In the long procession joiningMount, and star, and sea.Toward the shadowy brink we climbWhere the round year rolls sublime,Rolls, and drops, and falls foreverIn the vast of time;Like a plummet plunging deepPast the utmost reach of sleep,Till remembrance has no longerCare to laugh or weep.

NOW along the solemn heightsFade the Autumn's altar-lights;Down the great earth's glimmering chancelGlide the days and nights.

NOW along the solemn heights

Fade the Autumn's altar-lights;

Down the great earth's glimmering chancel

Glide the days and nights.

Little kindred of the grass,Like a shadow in a glassFalls the dark and falls the stillness;We must rise and pass.

Little kindred of the grass,

Like a shadow in a glass

Falls the dark and falls the stillness;

We must rise and pass.

We must rise and follow, wendingWhere the nights and days have ending,—Pass in order pale and slowUnto sleep extending.

We must rise and follow, wending

Where the nights and days have ending,—

Pass in order pale and slow

Unto sleep extending.

Little brothers of the clod,Soul of fire and seed of sod,We must fare into the silenceAt the knees of God.

Little brothers of the clod,

Soul of fire and seed of sod,

We must fare into the silence

At the knees of God.

Little comrades of the skyWing to wing we wander by,Going, going, going, going,Softly as a sigh.

Little comrades of the sky

Wing to wing we wander by,

Going, going, going, going,

Softly as a sigh.

Hark, the moving shapes confer,Globe of dew and gossamer,Fading and ephemeral spiritsIn the dusk astir.

Hark, the moving shapes confer,

Globe of dew and gossamer,

Fading and ephemeral spirits

In the dusk astir.

Moth and blossom, blade and bee,Worlds must go as well as we,In the long procession joiningMount, and star, and sea.

Moth and blossom, blade and bee,

Worlds must go as well as we,

In the long procession joining

Mount, and star, and sea.

Toward the shadowy brink we climbWhere the round year rolls sublime,Rolls, and drops, and falls foreverIn the vast of time;

Toward the shadowy brink we climb

Where the round year rolls sublime,

Rolls, and drops, and falls forever

In the vast of time;

Like a plummet plunging deepPast the utmost reach of sleep,Till remembrance has no longerCare to laugh or weep.

Like a plummet plunging deep

Past the utmost reach of sleep,

Till remembrance has no longer

Care to laugh or weep.


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