IF from my painting one hue, If from my singing one line, If from my building one true Hint of design; If from my carving one curve, If from my wisdom one phrase The Master sees fit to preserve -- Joyous my days. May this be said of me: "He gave to sound one cry, To life one memory That would not die. "He took from strife her sword; He gave to peace his breath." May this be said, O Lord, Of me at death. Happy is he who at last Hears the immortal choir Gather one note of his blast From the destroying fire; Or who knows that, at night, When the dusk curtains fall, He has left one guiding light In the King's hall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EXPATIATION ON THE COMBINING OF WEATHERS AT THIRTY .... by HAYDEN CARRUTH HAIL TEESSIDE! by CECIL DAY LEWIS LOCKED OUT; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST THE ORANGE PICKER by DAVID IGNATOW BONNYBELL: THE GRAY SPHEX by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMEDAY BOOK: JOHN CAMPBELL AND CARL EATON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |