Because you live, though out of sight and reach, I will, so help me God, live bravely too, Taking the road with laughter and gay speech, Alert, intent to give life all its due. I will delight my soul with many things, The humours of the street and books and plays, Great rocks and waves winnowed by seagulls’ wings, Star-jewelled Winter nights, gold harvest days. I will for your sake praise what I have missed, The sweet content of long-united lives, The sunrise joy of lovers who have kissed, Children with flower-faces, happy wives. And last I will praise Death who gives anew Brave life adventurous and love—and you.
This poem is in the public domain.
In misty cerements they wrapped the word My heart had feared so long: dead... dead... I heard But marvelled they could think the thing was true Because death cannot be for such as you. So while they spoke kind words to suit my need Of foolish idle things my heart took heed, Your racquet and worn-out tennis shoe, Your pipe upon the mantel,—then a bird Upon the wind-tossed larch began to sing And I remembered how one day in Spring You found the wren’s nest in the wall and said “Hush!... listen! I can hear them quarrelling...” The tennis court is marked, the wrens are fled, But you are dead, beloved, you are dead
This poem is in the public domain.
My lady, musing at her mirror, said: “This is my burial night, for I am dead; Hope dug the grave and laid my sad heart there, Sorrow was sexton, heavy-footed Care The lanthorn-bearer, Love in sober stole Was priest, while fickle Joy stayed but to toll The bell for me; then Memory graved the stone, And all being done, they left me there alone. But though the grave is made, the earth close-pressed About my heart, to-morrow I must rise, Put on my gay attire, laugh and jest, Lest one should read the secret in my eyes— Lest one should know that in this careless host Of revellers, I linger as a ghost.”
This poem is in the public domain.