REST here, at last, The long way overpast; Rest here, at home, -- Thy race is run, Thy dreary journey done, Thy last peak clomb. 'Twixt birth and death, What days of bitter breath Were thine, alas! Thy soul had sight To see by day, by night, Strange phantoms pass. Thy restless heart In few glad things had part, But dwelt alone, And night and day, In the old way, Made the old moan. But here is rest For aching brain and breast, Deep rest, complete, And nevermore, Heart-weary and foot-sore, Shall stray thy feet, -- Thy feet that went, With such long discontent, Their wonted beat About thy room, With its deep-seated gloom, Or through the street. Death gives them ease; Death gives thy spirit peace; Death lulls thee, quite. One thing alone Death leaves thee of thine own, -- Thy starless night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 8 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE RAT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE SONG MAKER by SARA TEASDALE QUIET WORK; SONNET by MATTHEW ARNOLD DE GUSTIBUS' by ROBERT BROWNING A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 10. THE DYING FALL by THOMAS CAMPION THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 54. LOVE'S FATALITY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |