Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MOURNERS, by WILSON PUGSLEY MACDONALD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MOURNERS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: If you are sure I'm down in hell
Last Line: A poet cannot die.
Subject(s): Mourning; Bereavement


IF you are sure I'm down in Hell
Wear mourning when I die,
And crape the door and toll the bell,
And cast a doleful eye,
And shun the road of the dancing leaf,
Where laughter loves to dwell;
For reason waits behind your grief
If I am down in Hell.

But if you think I'm up in Heaven,
Beyond the clouds' white ships,
Put on a robe of colors seven
And a new song on your lips,
And ring the bells with a hand gay,
And lift the red flags high
For one who tossed his flesh away
To prove he could not die.

Away with these barbaric rites
Bequeathed us like a curse:
The tolling belfry that affrights,
The black and gloomy hearse,
The granite shaft and marble vault,
The weeping march from Saul,
The slow procession that doth halt
Beside the abbey wall.

Upon our doorsteps lies each day
Some wounded child of Truth;
And Beauty burns its soul away
With every step from youth;
And Honor dies and no one cares;
Yet when our dust would sleep
The men go chanting woful airs
And all the women weep.

Mark not my body's final bed,
Nor let the place be known,
Nor light it with one rose of red,
Nor weight it with a stone.
But take my songs where'er you go
And sing them to the sky,
And from their beauty you shall know
A poet cannot die.





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