And he died, each record ends. Even the longest struggle thus bends The highthe lowly cannot suspend This thought, of such an end. 'Tis an end, yet a beginning, my friend, A promise which Christ did defend. So on ill tongues do not depend Else this beginning in torture will end. This great beginning that has no end, On how we cherish it will all depend. When clothed in the fleshhow we did spend? The record will show in the end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN KEATS (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A NORTHERN SUBURB by JOHN DAVIDSON MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 12 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI CLOUDY JUNE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE CORRELATION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN WIND SONG by LUCIA PEARL BOORNAZIAN THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE LAST TIME THAT I MET LADY RUTH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |