Fast asleep, mine own familiar friend, Fast asleep at last: Tho' the pain was strong, Tho' the struggle long, It is past; All thy pangs are at an end. Whilst I weep, whilst death bells toll, Thou art fast asleep, With idle hands upon thy breast And heart at rest: Whilst I weep Angels sing around thy singing soul. Who would wish thee back upon the rough Wearisome dangerous road? Wish back thy toil-spent soul Just at the goal? My soul, praise God For one dear soul which hath enough. I would not fetch thee back to hope with me A sickening hope deferred, To taste the cup that slips From thirsty lips: Hast thou not heard What was to hear, and seen what was to see? I would not speak the word if I could raise My dead to life: I would not speak If I could flush thy cheek And rouse thy pulses' strife And send thy feet on the once-trodden ways. How could I meet the dear rebuke If thou should'st say: "O friend of little faith, Good was my lot of death, And good my day Of rest, and good the sleep I took" --? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GROWN-UP TALK by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOON by HAYDEN CARRUTH LITTLE BROTHER'S STORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD CITIES OF THE PLAIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |