A POET'S soul has sung its way to God; Has loosed its luminous wings from earthly thongs, And soared to join the imperishable throngs Whose feet the immaculate valleys long have trod. For him, the recompense; for us, the rod; And we to whom regretfulness belongs Crown our dead singer with his own sweet songs, And roof his grave with love's remembering sod. But yesterday, a beacon on the height; To-day, a splendor that has passed us by, -- So, one by one into the morning light, Whilst yet late watchers gaze upon the sky And wonder what the heavens prophesy, The shining stars pass silently from sight! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNTITLED, 1968; FOR MARK ROTHKO by JAMES GALVIN MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VOLUPTAS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON STREET-CRIES: 2. THE SHIP OF EARTH by SIDNEY LANIER THE HEART'S RETURN by EDWIN MARKHAM TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |