Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furled In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.
Thy leaf has perished in the green, And while we breathe beneath the sun, The world which credits what is done Is cold to all that might have been.
The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfills himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself what comfort is in me I have lived my life, and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul....
He clasps the crag with crooked hands Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Here at the quiet limit of the world.
I seemed to move among a world of ghosts, And feel myself the shadow of a dream.
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before.
The clouds are lightly curled; Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world.
Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-haired shadow roaming like a dream The ever-silent spaces of the East.
And o'er the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Thro' all the world she follow'd him.
God made the woman for the man, And for the good and increase of the world.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories