 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
83
ON THE DEATH OF ARTEMUS WARD.
Is he gone to a land of no laughter—
This man that made mirth for us all?
Proves Death but a silence hereafter,
Where the echoes of Earth cannot fall?
Once closed, have the lips no more duty?
No more pleasure the exquisite ears?
Has the heart done o'erflowing with beauty,
As the eyes have with tears?
This man that made mirth for us all?
Proves Death but a silence hereafter,
Where the echoes of Earth cannot fall?
Once closed, have the lips no more duty?
No more pleasure the exquisite ears?
Has the heart done o'erflowing with beauty,
As the eyes have with tears?
84
Nay, if aught be sure, what can be surer,
Than that earth's good decays not with earth?
And of all the heart's springs none are purer
Than the springs of the fountains of mirth?
He that sounds them has pierced the heart's hollows,
The places where tears are and sleep;
For the foam flakes, that dance in life's shallows,
Are wrung from life's deep.
Than that earth's good decays not with earth?
And of all the heart's springs none are purer
Than the springs of the fountains of mirth?
He that sounds them has pierced the heart's hollows,
The places where tears are and sleep;
For the foam flakes, that dance in life's shallows,
Are wrung from life's deep.
He came with a heart full of gladness
From the glad-hearted world of the West,
Won our laughter, but not with mere madness,
Spake and joked with us, not in mere jest:
For the Man in our heart lingered after,
When the merriment died from our ears,
And those who were loudest in laughter
Are silent in tears.
From the glad-hearted world of the West,
Won our laughter, but not with mere madness,
Spake and joked with us, not in mere jest:
For the Man in our heart lingered after,
When the merriment died from our ears,
And those who were loudest in laughter
Are silent in tears.
| Poems by James Rhoades | |