Exogenesis.
175
The south-wind knows its own refrain
As it speeds the cloud o'er heaven's blue main.
"Lose thyself, thyself to win:
Grow from without thee, not within."
As it speeds the cloud o'er heaven's blue main.
"Lose thyself, thyself to win:
Grow from without thee, not within."
Leave thy thought and care alone,
Let the dead for the dead make moan;
Gather from earth and air and sea
The pulseless peace they keep for thee.
Ring on ring of sight and sound
Shall hide thy heart in a calm profound,—
Where the works of men and the ways of earth
Shall never enter with tears or mirth,
And the love of kind shall kinder be
From nature than humanity.
Let the dead for the dead make moan;
Gather from earth and air and sea
The pulseless peace they keep for thee.
Ring on ring of sight and sound
Shall hide thy heart in a calm profound,—
Where the works of men and the ways of earth
Shall never enter with tears or mirth,
And the love of kind shall kinder be
From nature than humanity.
