MEMORIAL ODE
Now the lyre whose lord's wise mastery gave its notes reverberate skill
Whence to give again the grace of golden gifts or hands long dead,
Now the deep clear soul that all the lore of time could scarce fulfil,
Now the sovereign voice that spake it, now the radiant eye that read,
Seem to sleep as sleeps the indomitable imperishable will
Here, that haply lives and sleeps not, though its word on earth be said.
Whence to give again the grace of golden gifts or hands long dead,
Now the deep clear soul that all the lore of time could scarce fulfil,
Now the sovereign voice that spake it, now the radiant eye that read,
Seem to sleep as sleeps the indomitable imperishable will
Here, that haply lives and sleeps not, though its word on earth be said.
1894.
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