SOMETIMES, when rude, cold shadows run Across whatever light I see; When all the work that I have done, Or can do, seems but vanity; I strive, nor vainly strive, to get Some little heart's ease from the day When all the weariness and fret Shall vanish from my life away; For I, with grandeur clothed upon, Shall lie in state and take my rest, And all my household, strangers grown, Shall hold me for an honored guest. But ere that day when all is set In order, very still and grand, And while my feet are lingering yet Along this troubled border-land, What things will be the first to fade, And down to utter darkness sink? The treasures that my hands have laid Where moth and rust corrupt, I think. And Love will be the last to wait And light my gloom with gracious gleams; For Love lies nearer heaven's glad gate, Than all imagination dreams. Aye, when my soul its mask shall drop, The twain to be no more at one, Love, with its prayers, shall bear me up Beyond the lark's wings, and the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THOUGHTS OF A TINY PIG by DAVID IGNATOW RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO RICHARD R. WRIGHT - INSTRUCTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LESSER EPISTLES: TO BERNARD LINTOTT by JOHN GAY THE REVENGE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BEN JONSON ENTERTAINS A MAN FROM STRATFORD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |