 | At Sunset |  |
103
FOUND IN ENVELOPE MARKED THE LOST POEM
1907
Master that dwell'st in peace serene,
Thrice happy soul, that ours hast been,
We turn to thee in this fair scene;
Thrice happy soul, that ours hast been,
We turn to thee in this fair scene;
As birds that pipe around a cage
Seek its loved inmate to engage
In the sweet war that singers wage.
Seek its loved inmate to engage
In the sweet war that singers wage.
But thou from out the golden wires
Hast passed, beyond the sunset fires,
To enter where our thought aspires.
Hast passed, beyond the sunset fires,
To enter where our thought aspires.
Well we recall the falling snows,
The sad day darkening to its close
That saw thee folded in repose.
The sad day darkening to its close
That saw thee folded in repose.
And as they led thy funeral train
Fair rhymes, the children of thy brain,
Did follow thee with hushed refrain.
Fair rhymes, the children of thy brain,
Did follow thee with hushed refrain.
In marble shall men set thy name,
Give lavish measure to thy claim
For dear remembrance and high fame.
Give lavish measure to thy claim
For dear remembrance and high fame.
| At Sunset | |