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100
Robert Browning.
WESTMINSTER ABBEY, DECEMBER 30TH, 1889.
From Rivo Alto's silent palace hall,
From San Michele's wilderness of flowers,
Comes one for rest beneath our Abbey Towers
Whose song and soul shall never sleep at all.
The crown of Venice shines above the pall,
A brighter crown thy tireless spirit dowers,
For thy strong heart the weakest heart empowers
To “strive and thrive,” fare forward, though we fall.
From San Michele's wilderness of flowers,
Comes one for rest beneath our Abbey Towers
Whose song and soul shall never sleep at all.
The crown of Venice shines above the pall,
A brighter crown thy tireless spirit dowers,
For thy strong heart the weakest heart empowers
To “strive and thrive,” fare forward, though we fall.
Singer of resolute right, and souls on fire
To meet the morrow's battle, and the ‘must’
Of Truth triumphant with our latest breath,
Lie here, for gentle Spenser can desire
No knightlier guest, nor Chaucer in his dust
A truer harp. Lie here—here comes no death.
To meet the morrow's battle, and the ‘must’
Of Truth triumphant with our latest breath,
Lie here, for gentle Spenser can desire
No knightlier guest, nor Chaucer in his dust
A truer harp. Lie here—here comes no death.
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