We know not whence we come nor where we wend, Yet through the murky maelstrom of our doubt There flares a torch no whirlwind can put out Wherein the lights of all creation blend! Like forces which in April warmth distend The sleeping bud within its sheath, throughout The dark a glow dilates our souls, to rout Grim shades of death which over us impend. What if our dust commingle with the earth, And these rude tabernacles be destroyed? We shall not vanish all beyond the verge -- That Great "Elan Vital" which gave it birth Shall claim each soul from out Golgotha's void. To fugue of Faith transpose the mourners' dirge! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH PERSPECTIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ITALIAN PICTURES: COSTA MAGIC by MINA LOY YOUNG LINCOLN by EDWIN MARKHAM FIRST FRUIT by ISAAC ROSENBERG ELEGY: THE LAMENT OF EDWARD BLASTOCK; FOR RICHARD ROWLEY by EDITH SITWELL |