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 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
So let us live, not pent in noisy towns,
But in calm places, watching all things fair—
The months following in waves across the fields,
Each stranding there new flowery pearls and shells;
The flocks of shadows nestled 'neath the trees;
The laughing brooks, like mischievous children still
Tangling the silver thread of the motherly moon.
So shall Earth be no more a theatre,
In which a tragic comedy is played—
A horrible farce with too real murder in it—
But a fair field where till the break of day
Man wrestles with the Angel of his fate
For an immortal blessing.
If we knew,
O Father, if we knew we die not, but
Live on, we should live worthier of thy love:
So help thy little ones to know and live:
That as a shadow which goes reaching forth
Longer and longer as the sun goes down,
The soul may stretch forth toward the great Unseen,
Until the sacred, solemn starlight comes
Gathering our individual shadows in its own.
But in calm places, watching all things fair—
The months following in waves across the fields,
Each stranding there new flowery pearls and shells;
The flocks of shadows nestled 'neath the trees;
The laughing brooks, like mischievous children still
Tangling the silver thread of the motherly moon.
So shall Earth be no more a theatre,
In which a tragic comedy is played—
A horrible farce with too real murder in it—
But a fair field where till the break of day
Man wrestles with the Angel of his fate
For an immortal blessing.
If we knew,
O Father, if we knew we die not, but
Live on, we should live worthier of thy love:
So help thy little ones to know and live:
That as a shadow which goes reaching forth
Longer and longer as the sun goes down,
The soul may stretch forth toward the great Unseen,
Until the sacred, solemn starlight comes
Gathering our individual shadows in its own.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |