e Lark Twitters'

ch of circumstance vinced nor cried aloud. lgeonings of chance bloody, but unbowed.

"

3281

lace of wrath and tears
the Horror of the shade,
menace of the years
hall find me unafraid.

= how strait the gate,

ed with punishments the scroll, ter of my fate:

-ptain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley [1849-1903]

My wages taken, and in my heart
Some late lark singing,

Let me be gathered to the quiet west,
The sundown splendid and serene,

Death.

William Ernest Henley [1849-1903]

"IN AFTER DAYS"

IN after days when grasses high
O'er-top the stone where I shall lie,
Though ill or well the world adjust
My slender claim to honored dust,
I shall not question or reply.

I shall not see the morning sky;
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh;
I shall be mute, as all men must
In after days!

But yet, now living, fain were I
That some one then should testify,
Saying "He held his pen in trust
To Art, not serving shame or lust."
Will none? Then let my memory die
In after days!

Austin Dobson [1840

"CALL ME NOT DEAD"

CALL me not dead when I, indeed, have gone
Into the company of the everliving
High and most glorious poets! Let thanksgiving
Rather be made. Say: "He at last hath won
Rest and release, converse supreme and wise,
Music and song and light of immortal faces;
To-day, perhaps, wandering in starry places,
He hath met Keats, and known him by his eyes.

Epilogue

3283

can say?) Shakespeare may pass, d just catch one syllable

uried wit that kept so well; nte, looking on the grass

ice, and listening still

is that sound from the heavenly hill." Richard Watson Gilder [1844-1909]

EPILOGUE

From "Asolando"

e silence of the sleep-time, fancies free,

here-by death, fools think, impris

e so loved you, whom you loved so,

oved, yet so mistaken!

th to do

h the mawkish, the unmanly? ›less, hopeless, did I drivel

ho?

ed his back but marched breast for

uds would break,

ugh right were worsted, wrong would

are baffled to fight better,

ke.

ne bustle of man's work-time

with a cheer!

east and back as either should be, cry "Speed,-fight on, fare ever

ere!"

Robert Browning (1812-1889]

CROSSING THE BAR

SUNSET and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

L'ENVOI

WHEN Earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried,

When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic

has died,

We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it-lie down for an

eon or two,

Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew!

And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a

golden chair;

They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair;

L'Envoi

3285

nts to draw from-Magdalene, Peter,

age at a sitting and never be tired at

shall praise us, and only the Master

k for money, and no one shall work of the working, and each, in his sepaas he sees It for the God of Things as

Rudyard Kipling [1865