YOU are over there, Father Malloy, Where holy ground is, and the cross marks every grave, Not here with us on the hill -- Us of wavering faith, and clouded vision And drifting hope, and unforgiven sins. You were so human, Father Malloy, Taking a friendly glass sometimes with us, Siding with us who would rescue Spoon River From the coldness and the dreariness of village morality. You were like a traveler who brings a little box of sand From the wastes about the pyramids And makes them real and Egypt real. You were a part of and related to a great past, And yet you were so close to many of us. You believed in the joy of life. You did not seem to be ashamed of the flesh. You faced life as it is, And as it changes. Some of us almost came to you, Father Malloy, Seeing how your church had divined the heart, And provided for it, Through Peter the Flame, Peter the Rock. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by BERNARD BARTON THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES: TO THE READER (1) by WILLIAM BASSE THE EVERLASTING GOD by EDWARD HENRY BICKERSTETH HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 8 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH NOT TOO UNIMPORTANT by BERTON BRALEY IN MEMORIAM: PAUL BRIDSON by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO THE READER by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |