Page:Rosemary and Pansies.djvu/128

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SLEEP AND DEATH

Slumber doth oft transfigure: I have seen
Plain faces grow quite beautiful in sleep:
Death too doth render comely and serene
Faces whereon dwelt frowns and wrinkles deep.
In sleep our better selves to us return,
Untroubled by the passionate desires,
The evil thoughts that in the daytime burn,
And eat our hearts out with their baleful fires.
O infinite pathos of man's hapless life,
That only when unconscious may he gain
A truce from that corroding cruel strife
That makes of life a synonym for pain!
Then is not death of all good things the best?
Sleep brings short solace, death unending rest.

THE GREAT NORTHERN EXPRESS

It rushes on, the embodiment of Force,
Devouring Distance and defeating Time,
Majestically carving out its course
With calm assurance, confidence sublime.
Water and Fire, most serviceable friends,
Though each may prove man's most malignant Foe,
Are yoked together here to serve his ends,
And to his will a proud obedience show.
'Tis thus that Suns and Planets rush through Space,
Their course marked out even to a hair's-breadth line,
But at the bidding of what Power they race,
What energy Dæmonic or Divine
Controls them, or if blind stern Law doth rule,
We may not learn in any earthly school.

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