 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
77
MY OWN HEREAFTER.
Where angel trumpets hail a brighter sun
With their superb alarum, and the flash
Of angel cymbals dazzles as they clash,
Seek not to find me, when my sands are run;
With their superb alarum, and the flash
Of angel cymbals dazzles as they clash,
Seek not to find me, when my sands are run;
Nor where, in mail of sapphire every one,
God's sentries man the walls, that Light's waves wash
With an eternal angel-heard faint plash—
But in some book of sonnets, when day's done.
God's sentries man the walls, that Light's waves wash
With an eternal angel-heard faint plash—
But in some book of sonnets, when day's done.
There in the long June twilight, as you read,
You will encounter my immortal parts,
If any such I have, from earth's clay freed;
You will encounter my immortal parts,
If any such I have, from earth's clay freed;
Divested of their sins, to be the seed
Perhaps of some slight good in other's hearts.
That is the only after-life I need.
Perhaps of some slight good in other's hearts.
That is the only after-life I need.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |