But as a summer wave
Serenely for a while
Will lift a crest to the sun,
Then sink again, so he
Back to the bright heavens gave
An answering smile;
Then quietly, having run
His course, bowed down his head,
And sank unmurmuringly,
Sank back into the sea,
The silent, the unfathomable sea
Of all the happy dead.
TENEBRAE
They say that I shall find him if I go
Along the dusty highways, or the green
Tracks of the downland shepherds, or between
The swaying corn, or where cool waters flow;
And others say, that speak as if they know,
That daily in the cities, in the mean
Dark streets, amid the crowd he may be seen,
With thieves and harlots wandering to and fro.
But I am blind. How shall a blind man dare
Venture along the roaring crowded street,
Or branching roads where I may never hit
The way he has gone? But someday if I sit
Quietly at this corner listening, there
May come this way the slow sound of his feet.
WHEN ALL IS SAID
When all is said
And all is done
Beneath the Sun,
And Man lies dead;
When all the earth
Is a cold grave,
And no more brave
Bright things have birth;
When cooling sun
And stone-cold world,
Together hurled,
Flame up as one--
O Sons of Men,
When all is flame,
What of your fame
And splendour then?
When all is fire
And flaming air,
What of your rare
And high desire
To turn the clod
To a thing divine,
The earth a shrine,
And Man the God?
* * * * *
FRANK PREWETT
TO MY MOTHER IN CANADA, FROM SICK-BED IN ITALY
Dear mother, from the sure sun and warm seas
Of Italy, I, sick, remember now
What sometimes is forgot in times of ease,
Our love, the always felt but unspoken vow.
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