Rest, rest -- there is no rest, Until the quiet grave Comes with its narrow arch The heart to save From life's long cankering rust, From torpor, cold and still -- The loveless, saddened dust, The jaded will. And yet, be far the hour Whose haven calls me home; Long be the arduous day Till evening come; What sureness now remains But that through livelong strife Only the loser gains An end to life? Then in the soundless deep Of even the shallowest grave Childhood and love he'll keep, And his soul save; All vext desire, all vain Cries of a conflict done Fallen to rest again; Death's refuge won. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION A SUNRISE SONG by SIDNEY LANIER THE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER THE FUTURE SPEAKS by LOUIS KAUFMAN ANSPACHER A RHPASODY; WRITTEN AT THE LAKES IN WESTMORLAND by JOHN BROWN (1715-1766) THE TIDES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |