'NOT ours,' say some, 'the thought of death to dread; Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell: Life is a feast, and we have banqueted -- Shall not the worms as well? 'The after-silence, when the feast is o'er, And void the places where the minstrels stood, Differs in nought from what hath been before, And is nor ill nor good.' Ah, but the Apparition -- the dumb sign -- The beckoning finger bidding me forgo The fellowship, the converse, and the wine, The songs, the festal glow! And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit, And while the purple joy is pass'd about, Whether 'tis ampler day divinelier lit Or homeless night without; And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see New prospects, or fall sheer -- a blinded thing! There is, O grave, thy hourly victory, And there, O death, thy sting. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 11 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE TEMPTATION OF OUR LORD: BALEUS PROLOCUTOR by JOHN BALE A LAY OF ST. DUNSTAN by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM PSALM 23 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PSALM 49 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |