The Nation (American magazine)/Volume 123/3194/Poems
Poems
Epitaph in a Garden
Here, in the shade of younger leaves,
Now they lie sweetly.
They never lived but as a dream,
Then died completely;
Now they lie sweetly.
They never lived but as a dream,
Then died completely;
For flowers face no Judgment Day
And risk no Resurrection:
Their part to shake the Naked Void
With rings and ripples of perfection.
And risk no Resurrection:
Their part to shake the Naked Void
With rings and ripples of perfection.
Epitaph Upon a Philosopher
The sun, the moon, the stars, the earth
Were all created at my birth,
And now they blur and swim away
Like dreams at the approach of day.
I open, and not close, the eye;
'Tis they are dying, and not I.
Were all created at my birth,
And now they blur and swim away
Like dreams at the approach of day.
I open, and not close, the eye;
'Tis they are dying, and not I.
Epitaph
I found the answers, then I learned
The riddles you had been;
And deprecated labyrinths
Which we had wandered in.
The riddles you had been;
And deprecated labyrinths
Which we had wandered in.
Now suddenly a silence;
All riddles are outrun:
Though I might touch you, yet you are
Departed past the sun.
All riddles are outrun:
Though I might touch you, yet you are
Departed past the sun.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1971, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 53 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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