I THINK the gentle soul of him Goes softly in some garden place, With the old smile time may not dim Upon his face. He who was lover of the Spring, With love that never quite forgets, Surely sees roses blossoming And violets. Now that his day of toil is through, I love to think he sits at ease, With some old volume that he knew Upon his knees. Watching, perhaps, with quiet eyes The white clouds' drifting argosy; Or twilight opening flower-wise On land and sea. He who so loved companionship I may not think walks quite alone, Failing some friendly hand to slip Within his own. Those whom he loved aforetime, still, I doubt not, bear him company; Yea, even laughter yet may thrill Where he may be. A thought, a fancy -- who may tell? Yet I who ever pray it so, Feel through my tears that all is well; And this I know, -- That God is gentle to his guest, And, therefore, may I gladly say, "Surely the things he loved the best Are his to-day." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 43 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONG OF MARION'S MEN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE TRAVELLER AT THE SOURCE OF THE NILE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS HARVEST SONG by LUDWIG HENRICH CHRISTOPH HOLTY PAN IN WALL STREET by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O-- by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |