Poems By William Bell Scott |
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| II. | II.TO DAVID SCOTT, |
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168
II.TO DAVID SCOTT,
ON PUBLISHING HIS “MEMOIR, ETC.”
Brother of mine, the last of many, passedInto the shipless dark sea, where we all
Must follow, as our days and hours are cast:
I speak to thee, I touch the dreadful pall,
To lay thine own bay leaves upon thy bier.
It may be in the arcane truths of God,
Thou still dost feel this touch, dost feel and hear,
And recognizest still the cold green sod,
Immensely far yet infinitely near!
Thou who hast shown how much the stedfast soul
Bears abnegation, how an ideal goal
Robs life, how singleness of heart hopes long,
And how by suffering sanctified, the song
From the inner shrine becomes more wonderful and strong.
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