The Shadow on the Flower
“ I regard death as nothing but the passing of the shadow on the flower.” — T. B. ALDRICH
WHEN those who have loved Power depart
From out a world of toil and stress,
Somewhere, is easing of the heart.
Somewhere, a load grows less.
From out a world of toil and stress,
Somewhere, is easing of the heart.
Somewhere, a load grows less.
When those who have loved Beauty die,
Who with her praise the world did bless,
Around the earth there runs a sigh
Of tender loneliness.
Who with her praise the world did bless,
Around the earth there runs a sigh
Of tender loneliness.
Thou, latest-silenced of her choir !
Hark to that long, long sigh, to-day:
The sunlight is a faded fire,
Since thou art gone away !
Hark to that long, long sigh, to-day:
The sunlight is a faded fire,
Since thou art gone away !
Since thou art gone — where none may find —
Where Beauty knows no wavering hour,
Where is no blighting from the wind,
No Shadow on the Flower.
Where Beauty knows no wavering hour,
Where is no blighting from the wind,
No Shadow on the Flower.
Thy mystic, floating, farewell word —
Oh, was it breathed in antiphon
To vatic strains thy spirit heard
From all thy brothers gone !
Oh, was it breathed in antiphon
To vatic strains thy spirit heard
From all thy brothers gone !