@2@3W@1E thought that Death was hard and harsh, a Doomer of dread power;— Ah no ! his wings wave gently as the petals of a flower.@1 What hath he done? Why have we watched and wept? He touched our friend's tired eyelids, and he slept. What hath he taken? Not the kindly smile, The sterling worth, the wisdom without guile. How hath he wronged us? Still we have our friend; For love and trust there cannot be an end. Who mourneth overmuch, and murmureth? The Soul that made shall care for him in death. The mortal in him slept, th' immortal changed; Over the hills of heaven he hath ranged,— A boundless country, and a beautiful; And Death its usher is and sentinel, Who seals the eyes of them he loveth well (And @3all@1 he loveth well!), Till they have journeyed whither they may not tell,— A boundless country and a beautiful! Ah, what their secret? Why does none return? Their Mentor Death hath won them, long they learn. Gladly they wander with him far and high;— Death's Love's disguise to all of them that die. @3We thought that Death was hard and harsh, a Doomer of dread power@1;— @3Ah no! his wings wave gently as the petals of a flower@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CONVENT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DAYBREAK by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SUN'S TRAVELS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE DEBT by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE SOUL'S MUTINY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TO WAR by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 42 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |