 | Collected poems |  |
351
HEREAFTER
Although the merchant be your care
The mart or field, do not forget—
To leave a glory on the air
When the red Gaelic sun has set—
The mart or field, do not forget—
To leave a glory on the air
When the red Gaelic sun has set—
Some prophet must have cried a word
The hurrying world will pause to hear.
Even for the unfaltering sword
No one will hold your memory dear.
The hurrying world will pause to hear.
Even for the unfaltering sword
No one will hold your memory dear.
The Greece of Pericles is cold:
Yet still there shines beyond its seas
The wisdom Diotima told
In the rapt ear of Socrates.
Yet still there shines beyond its seas
The wisdom Diotima told
In the rapt ear of Socrates.
| Collected poems | |