The gates of time swing to: Our wisest head, Our soundest heart, our loftiest soul is dead. But death like this, crowning a long success, Gives exaltation to our helplessness, Repeating, louder than all vain lament, 'Gainst death itself the one great argument -- Even this: A man so disciplined in truth, In freedom, labor, courtesy, and ruth, So disciplined, amid earth's age-old wars, To see even here the light of all the stars, Must be, wherever God will have him come, With the eternal anywhere at home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JACOBITE'S TOAST (TO AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY) by JOHN BYROM TO THE LADIES by MARY LEE CHUDLEIGH THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 28. THE WELSH MARCHES by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN CUPID MISTAKEN by MATTHEW PRIOR JESUS - THE KING IN HIS BEAUTY by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX JERUSALEM; THE EMANATION OF THE GIANT ALBION: CHAPTER 1 by WILLIAM BLAKE |