THY darkened life is over. Thou hast found That sweet, deep rest, which, through such lonesome days, And nights when sleep forsook thee, thou didst praise With envious longing. In Death's silence drowned, No clamoring bells with their intrusive sound, No noise of traffic in the city's maze, Or hurrying footsteps through its stony ways, Will vex the slumber in which thou art bound. Tired head, tired heart, tired spirit, all at rest; Since for the weary rest is Death's first boon, -- Rest; and then, after rest, the waking joy; The sudden rapture, by new life possessed; The swift, sure glory of the Heaven's high noon; The long-lost mother's welcome to her boy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 12 by OMAR KHAYYAM NOCTURNE by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER MORNING STAR by IDA MAY BORNCAMP A SEA-SIDE WALK by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE SECRET COMBINATION by ELLIS PARKER BUTLER LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ON HIS APPROACHING VISIT TO HAYLEY by WILLIAM COWPER ELEGY: OF HIS LADIES NOT COMING TO LONDON by MICHAEL DRAYTON |