 | The Alhambra and Other Poems |  |
30
Rest
Sometimes it seems true happiness can dwell
Only where thought and contemplation weave
Uninterrupted webs; to take our leave
For ever of the world in cloistered cell,
With no distraction save the solemn bell
That summons dead and living; not to grieve
For slaughtered summer-times beyond reprieve,
And all the ill that never can be well;
Only where thought and contemplation weave
Uninterrupted webs; to take our leave
For ever of the world in cloistered cell,
With no distraction save the solemn bell
That summons dead and living; not to grieve
For slaughtered summer-times beyond reprieve,
And all the ill that never can be well;
Each day to worship at the heavenly throne,
Which for our weakling sense we symbolise
By the proportioned stateliness of stone,—
Long glades of column and of arch, that rise
All-resonant with untumultuous tone;—
Sometimes this seems the only worthy prize.
Which for our weakling sense we symbolise
By the proportioned stateliness of stone,—
Long glades of column and of arch, that rise
All-resonant with untumultuous tone;—
Sometimes this seems the only worthy prize.
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