There is no death, there is but change. The seasons come, sunshine and storm, And buds burst forth, all passing strange -- Though in their changing, change but form. The oak tree thrives upon the hill, And fishes grow within the sea; All come, all go -- but ever still Transmit one life eternally. There is one life, there is one soul, Though endless be the mystic tie; Each climbing self doth claim the whole That its perfection must imply. Perfection -- this the end of life -- The driving urge which once begun -- It will not cease, this holy strife, Till victory crowns each struggle won. This then is faith: that man shall see What now his infant soul doth feel; That though the final goal shall be Far, dim and vague, it must be real. Or what could be this God of love? And what could all this struggle mean But that the fact of being prove Man's God in truth shall yet be seen? Yes, God of life, O, soul of love That fathers things both great and small, Who holdeth earth, the stars above, In one great loving care for all. So do not grieve; I have not gone. My body is but garment shed. If God be love, I am at home -- There is but life -- there are no dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO GOD THE FATHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE WALKING MAN OF RODIN by CARL SANDBURG BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ONE POET VISITS ANOTHER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES KATHLEEN O'MORE by GEORGE NUGENT REYNOLDS A MATCH by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE VIRGINIANS OF THE VALLEY by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR |