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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
300
SYRIA
I thought in Syria, Life was more than Death.A tomb there was forsaken of its dead,
But Death filled not the place; here with bowed head
Worships the world forever at the tread
Of one who lived, who liveth, and shall live—
Whose grave is but a footstep on the sod;
Men kiss the ground where living feet have trod.
Here not to Death but Life, they worship give.
August is Death, but this one tomb is rife
With a more mighty presence; it is Life.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |