UNTITLED

1

O loved one lying far away

Beyond the reach of human moan,

Can coffin board and heavy stone

Turn godlike man to senseless clay?

Or hast thou eyes to see the light

And feeling quick with joy and pain?

Alas! I think a lesser gain

Is mine, if thou can’st see me right.

Alas! how mean we must appear

When looked on by the holy dead!

I trust the glory round thy head

Hast kept thine eyes from seeing clear.

2

For in my heart these fancies rise

That I the singer of this song

Am weak where thou didst think me strong

And foolish where you feigned me wise.

Now that I lack thy helping hand

I shift with every changing creed,

No better than a broken reed

Less stable than the shifting sand.

Less stable than the changing sea,

At every setting of the sun

I cry in vain, ‘What have I done

This day for immortality?’