Fast asleep, mine own familiar friend, Fast asleep at last: Tho' the pain was strong, Tho' the struggle long, It is past; All thy pangs are at an end. Whilst I weep, whilst death bells toll, Thou art fast asleep, With idle hands upon thy breast And heart at rest: Whilst I weep Angels sing around thy singing soul. Who would wish thee back upon the rough Wearisome dangerous road? Wish back thy toil-spent soul Just at the goal? My soul, praise God For one dear soul which hath enough. I would not fetch thee back to hope with me A sickening hope deferred, To taste the cup that slips From thirsty lips: Hast thou not heard What was to hear, and seen what was to see? I would not speak the word if I could raise My dead to life: I would not speak If I could flush thy cheek And rouse thy pulses' strife And send thy feet on the once-trodden ways. How could I meet the dear rebuke If thou should'st say: "O friend of little faith, Good was my lot of death, And good my day Of rest, and good the sleep I took" --? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUNKER HILL by GEORGE HENRY CALVERT THE POWER OF MUSIC by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH FRED ENGLEHARDT'S BABY by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS MARSH MUSIC by KENNETH SLADE ALLING A TOMB BY THE SEA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS THE BROTHERS OF BIRCHINGTON; A LAY OF ST. THOMAS A BECKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM LIBRARY by EDWARD CARPENTER LINES TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN ABUSIVE REVIEW by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |