 | Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen |  |
42
TO A. L.
If it be Fate's decree
That England's day is done,
What's left for you and me
To act beneath the sun?
Over the shining lea
Carols the careless lark,
But we are for the dark—
If it be Fate's decree.
That England's day is done,
What's left for you and me
To act beneath the sun?
Over the shining lea
Carols the careless lark,
But we are for the dark—
If it be Fate's decree.
Man's life, e'en at the best,
Is but a doubtful boon:
When life hath lost all zest
Ne'er comes the end too soon:
For us be dreamless rest!
Who'd suffer endless wrong,
Who'd shameful life prolong—
Life, a poor boon at best!
Is but a doubtful boon:
When life hath lost all zest
Ne'er comes the end too soon:
For us be dreamless rest!
Who'd suffer endless wrong,
Who'd shameful life prolong—
Life, a poor boon at best!
March, 1918.
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