TO E. N. L.
THOU sweet-souled comrade of a time gone byWho in the infinite dost walk to-day,And lift thy spirit lips in song, while ILift up but lips of clay—Oft do I think on thee, thou steadfast heart,Who, when the summons dread was in thine ear,Didst raise thy calm brow up and challenge death,As one that knows no fear.And I have wondered if thy passionate lipsNow voice the songs that surged within thy heart;By the great alchemy of mighty deathFreed to diviner art.And didst thou find a welcome on the shoreThat rims the vastness of that shadow land?Did those sweet singing prophet bards of yoreStretch thee a greeting hand?And did they gather round about thee there,With faces gray against the coming day;And, with wan fingers on thy trembling lips,Teach thee their mighty lay?—Till thy enraptured soul, by thine own lips,Was filled with such great harmony of songAs gave thee place among their matchless selves,A brother of the throng.
THOU sweet-souled comrade of a time gone byWho in the infinite dost walk to-day,And lift thy spirit lips in song, while ILift up but lips of clay—Oft do I think on thee, thou steadfast heart,Who, when the summons dread was in thine ear,Didst raise thy calm brow up and challenge death,As one that knows no fear.And I have wondered if thy passionate lipsNow voice the songs that surged within thy heart;By the great alchemy of mighty deathFreed to diviner art.And didst thou find a welcome on the shoreThat rims the vastness of that shadow land?Did those sweet singing prophet bards of yoreStretch thee a greeting hand?And did they gather round about thee there,With faces gray against the coming day;And, with wan fingers on thy trembling lips,Teach thee their mighty lay?—Till thy enraptured soul, by thine own lips,Was filled with such great harmony of songAs gave thee place among their matchless selves,A brother of the throng.
THOU sweet-souled comrade of a time gone byWho in the infinite dost walk to-day,And lift thy spirit lips in song, while ILift up but lips of clay—
THOU sweet-souled comrade of a time gone by
Who in the infinite dost walk to-day,
And lift thy spirit lips in song, while I
Lift up but lips of clay—
Oft do I think on thee, thou steadfast heart,Who, when the summons dread was in thine ear,Didst raise thy calm brow up and challenge death,As one that knows no fear.
Oft do I think on thee, thou steadfast heart,
Who, when the summons dread was in thine ear,
Didst raise thy calm brow up and challenge death,
As one that knows no fear.
And I have wondered if thy passionate lipsNow voice the songs that surged within thy heart;By the great alchemy of mighty deathFreed to diviner art.
And I have wondered if thy passionate lips
Now voice the songs that surged within thy heart;
By the great alchemy of mighty death
Freed to diviner art.
And didst thou find a welcome on the shoreThat rims the vastness of that shadow land?Did those sweet singing prophet bards of yoreStretch thee a greeting hand?
And didst thou find a welcome on the shore
That rims the vastness of that shadow land?
Did those sweet singing prophet bards of yore
Stretch thee a greeting hand?
And did they gather round about thee there,With faces gray against the coming day;And, with wan fingers on thy trembling lips,Teach thee their mighty lay?—
And did they gather round about thee there,
With faces gray against the coming day;
And, with wan fingers on thy trembling lips,
Teach thee their mighty lay?—
Till thy enraptured soul, by thine own lips,Was filled with such great harmony of songAs gave thee place among their matchless selves,A brother of the throng.
Till thy enraptured soul, by thine own lips,
Was filled with such great harmony of song
As gave thee place among their matchless selves,
A brother of the throng.