A Shropshire Lad
XLIII
THE IMMORTAL PART
When I meet the morning beam,
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
'Another night, another day.
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
'Another night, another day.
'When shall this slough of sense be cast,
This dust of thoughts be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?
This dust of thoughts be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?
'This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout,
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,—
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,—
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