 | The Cup of Quietness |  |
34
PASTEUR'S GRAVE
No cypress-shadowed churchyard, nor the gloom
Of haunted cloisters, doth immortalise
The dust of him, whose patience proved more wise
To save, than Death to slay. The busy loom
Glancing with silk, the teeming herd, the bloom
Of purpling vineyards, and the grateful eyes
Of souls reprieved at Death's most dread assize,
Shall make eternal gladness round his tomb.
Of haunted cloisters, doth immortalise
The dust of him, whose patience proved more wise
To save, than Death to slay. The busy loom
Glancing with silk, the teeming herd, the bloom
Of purpling vineyards, and the grateful eyes
Of souls reprieved at Death's most dread assize,
Shall make eternal gladness round his tomb.
Not 'mid the dead should he be laid asleep
Who wageth still with Death triumphant strife,
Who sowed the good that centuries shall reap,
And took its terror from the healer's knife;
Defender of the living, he shall keep
His slumber in the armoury of life.
Who wageth still with Death triumphant strife,
Who sowed the good that centuries shall reap,
And took its terror from the healer's knife;
Defender of the living, he shall keep
His slumber in the armoury of life.
| The Cup of Quietness | |