 | Ephemeron |  |
In the sphere of vast existence—
Its beginning and its goal
Lost in dim unmeasured distance—
Dwells the solitary Soul.
Its beginning and its goal
Lost in dim unmeasured distance—
Dwells the solitary Soul.
Longing for the light eternal,
Through the gloom its footsteps bend.
Though a gleam of Day Supernal
On its darkness may descend—
Clouds terrestrial, shades infernal,
Close around it to the end.
Through the gloom its footsteps bend.
Though a gleam of Day Supernal
On its darkness may descend—
Clouds terrestrial, shades infernal,
Close around it to the end.
Long ago 'twas said by Homer,
Men are like the race of leaves—
Can Geneva or Saint Omer
More assure a soul that grieves
(Still from faith to doubt a roamer)
O'er the little it receives?
Men are like the race of leaves—
Can Geneva or Saint Omer
More assure a soul that grieves
(Still from faith to doubt a roamer)
O'er the little it receives?
6
For there is but one thing certain,
That the Earth will have her due—
Bony fingers draw the curtain
When the farce is fairly through.
That the Earth will have her due—
Bony fingers draw the curtain
When the farce is fairly through.
That the fount of life is flying
Through our pulses, wave on wave—
And we are but slowly dying
From the cradle to the grave.
Through our pulses, wave on wave—
And we are but slowly dying
From the cradle to the grave.
Human Love, and Tears, and Laughter,
Haunt these fated dwellings now—
Inconceivable Hereafter!
What companionship hast thou?
Haunt these fated dwellings now—
Inconceivable Hereafter!
What companionship hast thou?
| Ephemeron | |