The sweetest blossoms die. And so it was that, going day by day Unto the Church to praise and pray, And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully, I saw how on the graves the flowers Shed their fresh leaves in showers, And how their perfume rose up to the sky Before it passed away. The youngest blossoms die. They die and fall and nourish the rich earth From which they lately had their birth; Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by As is as though it had not been: - All colours turn to green; The bright hues vanish, and the odours fly, The grass hath lasting worth. And youth and beauty die. So be it, O my God, Thou God of Truth; Better than beauty and than youth Are Saints and Angels, a glad company; And Thou, O Lord, our Rest and Ease, Are better far than these. Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why Prefer to glean with Ruth? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BATTLEFIELD by EMILY DICKINSON THE STIRRUP-CUP by SIDNEY LANIER DIRGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A WINTRY LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA DARTMOUTH by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TOIL by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV LINES WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAD OF 'THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. EARLY MORNING by EDWARD CARPENTER |