REST here, at last, The long way overpast; Rest here, at home, -- Thy race is run, Thy dreary journey done, Thy last peak clomb. 'Twixt birth and death, What days of bitter breath Were thine, alas! Thy soul had sight To see by day, by night, Strange phantoms pass. Thy restless heart In few glad things had part, But dwelt alone, And night and day, In the old way, Made the old moan. But here is rest For aching brain and breast, Deep rest, complete, And nevermore, Heart-weary and foot-sore, Shall stray thy feet, -- Thy feet that went, With such long discontent, Their wonted beat About thy room, With its deep-seated gloom, Or through the street. Death gives them ease; Death gives thy spirit peace; Death lulls thee, quite. One thing alone Death leaves thee of thine own, -- Thy starless night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FABLES: 1ST SER. 5. THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM by JOHN GAY CHAMBER MUSIC: 36 by JAMES JOYCE SONNET (3) by CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY LYSISTRATA: HOW THE WOMEN WILL STOP WAR by ARISTOPHANES THE WINDING ROAD by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN ON THE DEATH OF MR. WOODWARD, AT EDINBURGH by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD OLD HOUSE by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS |