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Thou art gray With many a death of many a yesterday. Oyearning heart that lacked the athletes force A nd, stumbling, fell upon the beaten course, And looked, and saw with ever glazing eyes Some lower soul that seemed to win the prize !L o, Death, the just, who comes to all alike, Life ssorry scales of right anew shall strike. Forth, through the night, on unknown shores to win The peace of God unstirred by sense of sin !T here love without desire shall, like a mist At evening precious to the drooping flower, Possess thy soul in ownership, and kissed By viewless lips, whose touch shall be a dower Of genius and of winged serenity, Thou shalt abide in realms of poesy. There soul hath touch of soul, and there the great Cast wide to welcome thee joys golden gate.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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