A Requiem
There the first passion of the boy,
Buried with all its beauteous folly,
Sublimes to true love's melancholy,
Or true love's vivifying joy.
Buried with all its beauteous folly,
Sublimes to true love's melancholy,
Or true love's vivifying joy.
There rise the nobler dreams of youth,
From childhood's fancies cast aside;
Beliefs that had their day and died
Grow thence to grander forms of truth.
From childhood's fancies cast aside;
Beliefs that had their day and died
Grow thence to grander forms of truth.
But they who drop by slow degrees,
Gifted in vain, the best they have
Deep in a cold and barren grave—
What shall we say to comfort these?
Gifted in vain, the best they have
Deep in a cold and barren grave—
What shall we say to comfort these?
That happier selves shall gather flowers
From hopes we sowed in ground that seemed
So barren!—fairy tales e dreamed
Be true of other lives than ours?
From hopes we sowed in ground that seemed
So barren!—fairy tales e dreamed
Be true of other lives than ours?
That poems and that pictures, pent
Once in our souls, shall yet escape,
And in some new transcendent shape
Attain their full accomplishment?
Once in our souls, shall yet escape,
And in some new transcendent shape
Attain their full accomplishment?
Pray for all souls that mourn their dead—
Pray for all souls that they may see
Pray for all souls that they may see
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