IT is no winter night comes down Upon our hearts, dear friends of old; But a May evening, softly brown, Whose wind is rather cold. We are not, like yon sad-eyed West, Phantoms that brood o'er Time's dust-hoard, We are like yon Moon—in mourning drest, But gazing on her lord. Come nearer to the hearth, sweet friends, Draw nigher, closer, hand and chair; Ours is a love that never ends, For God is dearest there! We will not talk about the past, We will not ponder ancient pain; Those are but deep foundations cast For peaks of soaring gain! We, waiting Dead, will warm our bones At our poor smouldering earthly fire; And talk of wide-eyed living ones Who have what we desire. O Living, ye know what is death— We, by and by, shall know it too! Humble, with bated, hoping breath, We are coming fast to you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHT, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE DORA VERSUS ROSE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON FANCY, FR. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DOG AND CAT by RUTH ANDERSON BARNETT PSALM 133 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE GOLDEN AGE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |