Must I Thus Leave Thee,

Hear All Ye Angels, Progeny Of Light, Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers.

Sometime Let Gorgeous Tragedy In Sceptred Pall Come Sweeping By, Presenting Thebes, Or Pelops' Line, Or The Tale Of Troy Divine.

Virtue, Which Breaks Through Opposition And All Temptation Can Remove, Most Shines, And Most Is Acceptable Above.

How Sweetly Did They Float Upon The Wings Of Silence Through The Empty-vaulted Night, At Every Fall Smoothing The Raven Down Of Darkness Till It Smiled!

Leaves Have Their Time To Fall, And Flowers To Wither At The North - Wind's Breath, And Stars To Set; But All, Thou Hast All Seasons For Thine Own, O Death!