How blossomy must be the halls of Death Against the coming of the newly dead! How sweet with woven garlands gathered From pastures where the pacing stars take breath! And with what tender haste, each with his wreath Of welcome, must the elder dead return To greet about the doors with dear concern These much-loved, proud-eyed farers from beneath. For these that come, come not forspent with years, Nor bent with long despair, nor weak with tears, They mount superbly thro' the gold-flecked air, The light of immolation in their eyes, The green of youth eternal in their hair, And Honor's music on them like sunrise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE VILLAGE by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW TO MAY HOWARD JACKSON - SCULPTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VENUS IN A GARDEN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |