The end with outstretched hands Provides the balm That gives the slipping sands Of time their calm. The dark bewilders and the light entices. The end suffices. The things forlorn we glance at as we go; Dim patches of bleached grass, And floating wreckage tossed on desolate seas, And all the piteous faces that we pass, And all the flow Of all the tears those piteous faces show, The end suffices these. O end of all things giving all things peace And bringing them release! It is enough to name thee and be dumb. That thou must come, Unasked, unspeeded, At last to all, in answer unto all; No more is needed. This fungus-thing unfurled, This blunder, this contortion, this huge blot, That it should linger not, But into cool deep wells of death be hurled, How just, how blest! But let there be for us no after-world, Lord of Eternal Rest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAR OLD DICK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SIXTEEN MONTHS by CARL SANDBURG AN ODE TO THE FRAMERS OF THE FRAME BILL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE WORD by WILLIAM WALSHAM HOW MY FAMILIAR by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |