Such Was The Wreck Of

The Air Is Full Of Farewells To The Dying. And Mournings For The Dead.

Many Have Genius, But, Wanting Art, Are Forever Dumb. The Two Must Go Together To Form The Great Poet, Painter, Or Sculptor.

For In The Night, Unseen, A Single Warrior, In Sombre Harness Mailed, Dreaded Of Man, And Surnamed The Destroyer, The Rampart Wall Has Scaled. He Passed Into The Chamber Of The Sleeper, The Dark And Silent Room, And As He Entered, Darker Grew, And Deeper, The Silence And The Gloom.

Does Not All The Blood Within Me Leap To Meet Thee, Leap To Meet Thee, As The Springs To Meet The Sunshine.

Even He That Died For Us Upon The Cross, In The Last Hour, In The Unutterable Agony Of Death, Was Mindful Of His Mother, As If To Teach Us That This Holy Love Should Be Our Last Worldly Thought - The Last Point Of Earth From Which The Soul Should Take Its Flight For Heaven.