 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
THE SOUL
Three messengers to me from heaven cameAnd said: “There is a deathless human soul;
It is not lost, as is the fiery flame
That dies into the undistinguished whole.
Ah, no; it separate is, distinct as God—
Nor any more than He can it be killed;
Then fearless give thy body to the clod,
For naught can quench the light that once it filled!”
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The second voice came crying in the night
With strange and awful music from above;
None who have heard that voice forget it quite;
Birth is it named; the third, O, turn not pale!
'T was Death to the undying soul cried, Hail!
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |