We toil and take our rest -- we laugh and weep, Pine in our loves, and perish in our hates -- A little while we live, and then the Fates Cover us gently with eternal sleep. Ah, better so! Did kindly Death not keep Open his sacred immemorial gates, Bowed with the grief that wears, the joy that sates, We men might ever in the low dust creep Thro' life's dim paths unblessed by any star; But at the touch of Death's celestial wings Our loves loom larger and our hates wax faint, For in Death's hand those deathless Mysteries are That round our life with hints of heavenlier things, Dreams of strange regions, passing mortal taint. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AUX ITALIENS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON AFTER THE PLEASURE PARTY by HERMAN MELVILLE THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TOLEDO CAPTURED BY THE FRANKS by AL-ASSAL POEM FOR PICTURE: TO AN OIL PAINTING BY WINSLOW HOMER (DRIFTWOOD) by FRANK ANKENBRAND JR. ST. MARTIN'S WALL by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG THE LEADY'S TOWER by WILLIAM BARNES |