Poetry Archives

A little while, with love and youth,
  He wandered, singing:—
    He felt life’s pulses hot and strong
    Beat all his rapid veins along;
    He wrought life’s rhythms into song:
      He laughed, he sang the Dawn!
    So close, so close to life he dwelt
    That at rare times and rapt he felt
    The fleshly barriers yield and melt;
      He trembled, looking on
    Creation at her miracles;
    His soul-sight pierced the earthly shells
    And saw the spirit weave its spells,
      The veil of clay withdrawn;—
A little while, with love and youth,
  He wandered, singing!

A little while, with age and death,
  He wanders, dreaming;—

    No more the thunder and the urge
    Of earth’s full tides that storm the verge
    Of heaven with their sweep and surge
      Shall lift, shall bear him on;
    Where is the golden hope that led
    Him comrade with the mighty dead?
    The love that aureoled his head?—
      The glory is withdrawn!
    How shall one soar with broken wings?
    The leagued might of futile things
    Wars with the heart that dares and sings;—
      It is not always Dawn!
A little while, with age and death,
  He wanders, dreaming.