 | Teresa and Other Poems |  |
120
AFTER EURIPIDES
Farewell, my sometime Master! Oh, to thinkOn what a journey, from how loved a home,
He went, who now returns not! Till to-day,
Lord of the lives of myriads—yours and mine—
Now beggared of his own, and lowlier laid
To-night than yon poor drudge who day-long toiled
For a mere pittance, pleased with menial fare.
Lo! such an one scarce lives, and Death to such
Comes in the nick of time, come when he will;
Nor finds him at the feast, but plying sore
This or that other service, nowise great,
His customary burden. Therefore, too,
Death loves to spare him, and goes forth in quest
Of prosperous folk and princes, lords of earth.
These suddenly beneath the nadir world—
How better prove his preference?—these he takes
Untimely, not as recompense for sin,
But reaping for himself the worthier wage;
For who so rich can purchase not to die?
But hush! to her who sits and weeps within
I will proclaim your coming, though with grief
Her soul be nigh reft from her, and both cheeks
Drenched with the tears' eye-moistening overflow.
| Teresa and Other Poems | |