WE, teeming transients of the sun, Until our eager race be run, Bestir us in a hundred ways To leave, before the caverned dark Engulf us, some small, vital spark -- A firefly in a somber maze -- To say to those who follow, we Are not extinguished utterly; Our mortal, that is less than naught, Fixed in a white, immortal thought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BIRTHDAY POEM FOR THOMAS HARDY by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF STERLING AND SARAH LANIER by SIDNEY LANIER TO IMAGINATION (2) by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE BOROUGH: LETTER 22. POOR OF THE BOROUGH. PETER GRIMES by GEORGE CRABBE TEN YEARS AFTER by JOSEPH AUSLANDER THE LAST MAN: MIDNIGHT HYMN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |