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AFTERWARDS
Some day the sun will rise, but I shall rise
No more its warmth and radiance to enjoy,
But lie, a cold unconscious sacrifice
To treacherous time's fierce passion to destroy:
And shall the world when I am gone proceed
All heedlessly on its accustomed way?
Forlorn of me shall it not feel some need,
Some presage dim of failure and decay?
No more its warmth and radiance to enjoy,
But lie, a cold unconscious sacrifice
To treacherous time's fierce passion to destroy:
And shall the world when I am gone proceed
All heedlessly on its accustomed way?
Forlorn of me shall it not feel some need,
Some presage dim of failure and decay?
Perish such mean and childish thoughts as these!
The taper's use is o'er when sinks its light:
Gladly shall fall my worn-out energies
Into the bosom of the infinite:
Enough for me that for a time I've been
An actor on so vast and strange a scene!
The taper's use is o'er when sinks its light:
Gladly shall fall my worn-out energies
Into the bosom of the infinite:
Enough for me that for a time I've been
An actor on so vast and strange a scene!
LIFE-WEARINESS
Last night, much tired with work and anxious thought,
When I at last upon my couch reclined,
Discouragement so evilly had wrought
On throbbing heart and overwearied mind,—
'Twere well, I said, if I woke nevermore
From that deep slumber which will soon be mine,
For in life's combat, until all is o'er,
Aid comes not, either human or divine:
What solace or delight doth fate provide
For the expense of so much painful breath,
Since all must reach at last oblivion's tide,
And good and ill alike are paid with death!
And then I slept and dreamt a happy dream
Of a sunny landscape and a murmuring stream.
When I at last upon my couch reclined,
Discouragement so evilly had wrought
On throbbing heart and overwearied mind,—
'Twere well, I said, if I woke nevermore
From that deep slumber which will soon be mine,
For in life's combat, until all is o'er,
Aid comes not, either human or divine:
What solace or delight doth fate provide
For the expense of so much painful breath,
Since all must reach at last oblivion's tide,
And good and ill alike are paid with death!
And then I slept and dreamt a happy dream
Of a sunny landscape and a murmuring stream.
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