@3Theophilus: Do you then fear neither pain nor death?@1 Account it most strange if I should fear The white horse all a-quiver at my door, The boat with anchor drawn and lifted oar, And songs like faroff waters, coming near. For death is a boat upon a brightening sea, A white horse climbing swiftly into light, And pain a flash of song from heaven's height, Bringing the One I love more close to me! @3Theophilus: But earth is a paradise of beauty! How can you bear to leave it?@1 That earth is beautiful, that it is bright, And that its streams are beautiful, I know. But all these wither back to dust. I go Where every light that shines is yet His light. Where brooks and lilies from the mosses rise, Where every tree is much too green to fade, Where starlit apples in the leaves are laid, And the red rose on the meadow never dies! @3Theophilus: Will you send me apples and roses from this Paradise?@1 I will, Theophilus! That you may eat Three royal apples from the Tree of love That stands all starlike on the plains above, Lighting the jewels in His hands and feet. I will send three roses, sweeter than the breath Of many flowers heavied down with bees, And when your eyes have sudden looked on these, You will run, you will run to welcome death! |