 | The Finding of The Book and Other Poems |  |
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What voice is that which o'er the ocean
What voice is that which o'er the ocean,
Through what is lit and what obscure no less,
Night's coruscations and its darknesses,
Still rises starward, linking man to man?
It is the sorrow metropolitan
Of all earth's kings, the voice of their distress
For one who never sought their crown or dress,
The gentle-manner'd good republican.
Our England, too, sends France across the deep
Love's message no new wars shall ever shake,
Her human sense of all that comes with time;
The dreams which are the hopes of men asleep,
The hopes which are the dreams of men awake,
The tragedy around life's pantomime.
| The Finding of The Book and Other Poems | |