Poems (Dorr)/At Rest
For works with similar titles, see At Rest.
AT REST
"'When Greek meets Greek,' you know," he sadly said.
"'Then comes the tug of war.' I deem him great,
And own him wise and good. Yet adverse fate
Hath made us enemies. If I were dead,
And buried deep with grave-mould on my head,
I still believe that, came he soon or late
Where I was lying in my last estate,
My dust would quiver at his lightest tread!"
The slow years passed; and one fair summer night,
When the low sun was reddening all the west,
I saw two grave-mounds, where the grass was bright,
Lying so near each other that the crest
Of the same wave touched each with amber light.
But, ah, dear hearts! how undisturbed their rest!
"'Then comes the tug of war.' I deem him great,
And own him wise and good. Yet adverse fate
Hath made us enemies. If I were dead,
And buried deep with grave-mould on my head,
I still believe that, came he soon or late
Where I was lying in my last estate,
My dust would quiver at his lightest tread!"
The slow years passed; and one fair summer night,
When the low sun was reddening all the west,
I saw two grave-mounds, where the grass was bright,
Lying so near each other that the crest
Of the same wave touched each with amber light.
But, ah, dear hearts! how undisturbed their rest!