EACH life has one grand day: the clouds may lie Along the hills, and storm-winds fiercely blow -- The great red sun shine like a thing of woe, And death's sad skeleton stalk grimly by. Yet none of these, no matter how they try, Can shroud the perfect triumph we shall know, Or dim the glory that some star will show Set far away in depths of purple sky. Sweet love may bring to us this day supreme, Or it may thrill our souls through art or song, Or meet us where red battle-surges foam; Hope's stranded wrecks the barren coasts may gleam, And weeks and months rush by, a sombre throng, But sometimes, somewhere, it will surely come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY by JOHN DRYDEN A SONG TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY GOING OUT OF TOWN IN THE SPRING by JOHN DRYDEN AFTER THE QUARREL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR UPON PRUE, HIS MAID by ROBERT HERRICK A ROUGH RHYME ON A ROUGH MATTER; THE ENGLISH GAME LAWS by CHARLES KINGSLEY A HYMN WRITTEN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ALEXANDER POPE AN EVENING LULL by WALT WHITMAN AVELINGLAS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 12. TO YONE NOGUCHI by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |