Poems (Jackson)/Flowers on a Grave
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HAT sweeter thing to hear, through tears, than this,
Of one who dies, that, looking on him dead,
All men with tender reverence gazed and said:
"What courtesy and gentleness were his!
Our ruder lives, for years to come, will miss
His sweet serenity, which daily shed
A grace we scarcely felt, so deep inbred
Of nature was it. Loyalty which is
So loyal as his loyalty to friends
Is rare; such purity is rarer still."
Yes, there is yet one sweeter thing. It ends
The broken speech with sobs that choke and fill
Our throats.
Alas! lost friend, we knew not how
Our hearts were won to love thee, until now.
FLOWERS ON A GRAVE.
I.
HAT sweeter thing to hear, through tears, than this,Of one who dies, that, looking on him dead,
All men with tender reverence gazed and said:
"What courtesy and gentleness were his!
Our ruder lives, for years to come, will miss
His sweet serenity, which daily shed
A grace we scarcely felt, so deep inbred
Of nature was it. Loyalty which is
So loyal as his loyalty to friends
Is rare; such purity is rarer still."
Yes, there is yet one sweeter thing. It ends
The broken speech with sobs that choke and fill
Our throats.
Alas! lost friend, we knew not how
Our hearts were won to love thee, until now.
II.
Some lives are bright like torches, and their flame
Casts flickering lights around, and changeful heats;
Some lives blaze like the meteor which fleets
Across the sky; and some of lofty aim
Stand out like beacon-lights. But never came,
Or can, a light so satisfying sweet,
As steady daylight, unperturbed, complete,
And noiseless.
Human lives we see the same
As this; their equilibrium so just,
Their movement so serene, so still, small heed
The world pays to their presence till in need
It sudden finds itself. The darkness near,
The precious life returning dust for dust,
It recollects how noon and life were clear.
Casts flickering lights around, and changeful heats;
Some lives blaze like the meteor which fleets
Across the sky; and some of lofty aim
Stand out like beacon-lights. But never came,
Or can, a light so satisfying sweet,
As steady daylight, unperturbed, complete,
And noiseless.
Human lives we see the same
As this; their equilibrium so just,
Their movement so serene, so still, small heed
The world pays to their presence till in need
It sudden finds itself. The darkness near,
The precious life returning dust for dust,
It recollects how noon and life were clear.
III.
How poor is all that fame can be or bring!
Although a generation feed the pyre,
How soon dies out the lifeless, loveless fire!
The king is dead. Hurrah! Long live the king!
The poet breathes his last. Who next will sing?
The great man falls. Who comes to mount still higher?
Oh, bitter emptiness of such desire!
Earth holds but one true good, but one true thing,
And this is it—to walk in honest ways
And patient, and with all one's heart belong
In love unto one's own! No death so strong
That life like this he ever conquers, slays;
The centuries do to it no hurt, no wrong:
They are eternal resurrection days.
Although a generation feed the pyre,
How soon dies out the lifeless, loveless fire!
The king is dead. Hurrah! Long live the king!
The poet breathes his last. Who next will sing?
The great man falls. Who comes to mount still higher?
Oh, bitter emptiness of such desire!
Earth holds but one true good, but one true thing,
And this is it—to walk in honest ways
And patient, and with all one's heart belong
In love unto one's own! No death so strong
That life like this he ever conquers, slays;
The centuries do to it no hurt, no wrong:
They are eternal resurrection days.