Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN PACE, by ARTHUR REED ROPES


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

IN PACE, by                    
First Line: When you are dead some day, my dear
Last Line: That will not spring again.
Alternate Author Name(s): Roos, Adrian
Subject(s): Death; Dead, The


WHEN you are dead some day, my dear,
Quite dead and under ground,
Where you will never see or hear
A summer sight or sound,
What shall remain of you in death,
When all our songs to you
Are silent as the bird whose breath
Has sung the summer through?

I wonder, will you ever wake,
And with tired eyes again
Live for your old life's little sake
An age of joy or pain?
Shall some stern destiny control
That perfect form, wherein
I hardly see enough of soul
To make your life a sin?

For, we have heard, for all men born
One harvest-day prepares
Its golden garners for the corn,
And fire to burn the tares;
But who shall gather into sheaves,
Or turn aside to blame
The poppies' puckered helpless leaves,
Blown bells of scarlet flame?
No hate so hard, no love so bold
To seek your bliss or woe;
You are too sweet for hell to hold,
And heaven would tire you so.
A little while your joy shall be,
And when you crave for rest
The earth shall take you utterly
Again into her breast.

And we will find a quiet place
For your still sepulchre,
And lay the flowers upon your face
Sweet as your kisses were,
And with hushed voices void of mirth
Spread the light turf above,
Soft as the silk you loved on earth
As much as you could love.

Few tears, but once, our eyes shall shed,
Nor will we sigh at all,
But come and look upon your bed
When the warm sunlights fall.
Upon that grave no tree of fruit
Shall grow, nor any grain,
Only one flower of shallow root
That will not spring again.





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