WHEN on thy bed of pain thou layest low Daily we saw thy body fade away, Nor could the love wherewith we loved thee stay For one dear hour the flesh borne down by woe; But as the mortal sank, with what white glow Flamed the eternal spirit, night and day; Untouched, unwasted, though the crumbling clay Lay wrecked and ruined! Ah, is it not so, Dear poet-comrade, who from sight hast gone; Is it not so the spirit hath a life Death may not conquer? But, O dauntless one! Still must we sorrow. Heavy is the strife And thou not with us; thou of the old race That with Jehovah parleyed, face to face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABOVE AND WITHIN by DAVID IGNATOW PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON A VOICE FROM THE SWEAT-SHOPS (A HYMN WITH RESPONSES) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A HUNDRED COLLARS by ROBERT FROST GASCOIGNE'S GOOD MORROW by GEORGE GASCOIGNE IN THE WILDERNESS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 27 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN ON A CHILD by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR MARY'S GIRLHOOD (FOR A PICTURE): 1 by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |