THERE is a heart I knew in other days, Not ever far from any one day's thought; One pure as are the purest. All the years Of battle or of peace, of joy or grief, Take him no further from me. Oftentimes, When the sweet tenderness of some glad girl Disturbs with tears, full suddenly I know It is because one memory ever dear Is matched a moment with its living kin. Or when at hearing of some gallant deed My throat fills, and I may not dare to say The quick praise in me, then I know, alas! 'T is by this dear dead nobleness my soul is stirred. He lived, he loved, he died. Brief epitaph! What hour of duty in the long grim wards Poisoned his life, I know not. Painfully He sickened, yearning for the strife of War That went its thunderous way unhelped of him; And then he died. A little duty done; A little love for many, much for me, And that was all beneath this earthly sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLIZZARD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SUFFERED UNDER PONTIUS PILATE, WAS CRUCIFIED, DEAD, AND BURIED by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER A SEA-SPELL (FOR A PICTURE) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 4 by MARK AKENSIDE MYRTILLA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |