 | The bird and the bell, with other poems |  |
II.
Dim in the distance fadeThe sunshine and the shade;
164
Into the horizon's mist has gone.
One record rises from our past,
That shall forever last;
A name our age can never
From its remembrance sever.
We bear it in our hearts to-day,
Fresh as the perfume of the May.
It vibrates in the air, a rich, full-chorded strain
Touched with weird minor moods of pain,
The music of a life revealed to few,
Till to the age Death gave the fame long due,
And made the unfinished symphony a part
Of the great growing century's mind and heart.
| The bird and the bell, with other poems | |