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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
FORECASTING.
Some day, as now, the world shall reawake—
The city from its brief, dream-tortured sleep;
The country from its rest so pure and deep—
To song of birds in every flowering brake;
And men light-hearted, or with hearts that ache,
Shall rise and go what they have sown to reap;
And women smile, or sit alone and weep
For life once sweet, grown bitter for love's sake.
The city from its brief, dream-tortured sleep;
The country from its rest so pure and deep—
To song of birds in every flowering brake;
And men light-hearted, or with hearts that ache,
Shall rise and go what they have sown to reap;
And women smile, or sit alone and weep
For life once sweet, grown bitter for love's sake.
But we, that day, shall not be here, — not we;
We shall have done with life though few may know:
Between us then shall awful stillness be,
Who spake such words of bliss, such words of woe,
As winds remember, chanting fitfully—
Chanting, as now — above us lying low.
We shall have done with life though few may know:
Between us then shall awful stillness be,
Who spake such words of bliss, such words of woe,
As winds remember, chanting fitfully—
Chanting, as now — above us lying low.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |