Methinks we do as fretful children do, Leaning their faces on the window-pane To sigh the glass dim with their own breath's stain, And shut the sky and landscape from their view; And, thus, alas! since God the maker drew A mystic separation 'twixt those twain, -- The life beyond us and our souls in pain, -- We miss the prospect which we are called unto By grief we are fools to use. Be still and strong, O man, my brother! hold thy sobbing breath, And keep thy soul's large windows pure from wrong; That so, as life's appointment issueth, Thy vision may be clear to watch along The sunset consummation-lights of death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A BURYING GROUND by SARA TEASDALE EGERTON MANUSCRIPT: 102 by THOMAS WYATT THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE by ROBERT EMMET SHERWOOD VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF P. BURGESS; A CHILD OF SUPERIOR ENDOWMENTS by BERNARD BARTON |