MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH
OF KARL BLIND
Across the wide-wing'd years
Whose sound no hearkener hears
Passing in thunder of reverberate flight,
Nor any seer may see
What fruit of them shall be,
Shines from the death-struck past a living light,
And music breathed of memory's breath
Attunes the darkling silence born of earthly death.
Whose sound no hearkener hears
Passing in thunder of reverberate flight,
Nor any seer may see
What fruit of them shall be,
Shines from the death-struck past a living light,
And music breathed of memory's breath
Attunes the darkling silence born of earthly death.
Through all the thunderous time,
Now silent and sublime,
When Right in hopeless hope waged war on Wrong,
His head shone high, his hand
Grasped as a burning brand
The sword of faith which weakness makes more strong,
And they for whom it shines hold fast
The trust that Time bequeaths for truth to assure at last.
Now silent and sublime,
When Right in hopeless hope waged war on Wrong,
His head shone high, his hand
Grasped as a burning brand
The sword of faith which weakness makes more strong,
And they for whom it shines hold fast
The trust that Time bequeaths for truth to assure at last.
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