 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XI.
Praise from the noble, from the gentle, Love,Too oft unfairly won, or dearly bought,
By man may be accepted, though not sought,
And when accepted, honoured: for they rove,
Outcasts from Heaven, a world that loves them not—
If then they seek thy tent or sheltering grove,
Count them lost Angels to thy threshold brought
For rest, ere yet they wing their flight above.
Welcome those Strangers meekly when they come,
And gain their blessing when they seek the sky:
Strive not to keep them: Earth is not their home;
And Man must humbly live, and gladly die.
Death—Death, a dark-eyed Page, shall be his guide
To seats where Praise and Love with Life and Peace abide.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |