| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 12501900. |
| |
| William (Johnson) Cory. 18231892 |
| |
| 758. Mimnermus in Church |
| |
| YOU promise heavens free from strife, | |
| Pure truth, and perfect change of will; | |
| But sweet, sweet is this human life, | |
| So sweet, I fain would breathe it still; | |
| Your chilly stars I can forgo, | 5 |
| This warm kind world is all I know. | |
| |
| You say there is no substance here, | |
| One great reality above: | |
| Back from that void I shrink in fear, | |
| And child-like hide myself in love: | 10 |
| Show me what angels feel. Till then | |
| I cling, a mere weak man, to men. | |
| |
| You bid me lift my mean desires | |
| From faltering lips and fitful veins | |
| To sexless souls, ideal quires, | 15 |
| Unwearied voices, wordless strains: | |
| My mind with fonder welcome owns | |
| One dear dead friend's remember'd tones. | |
| |
| Forsooth the present we must give | |
| To that which cannot pass away; | 20 |
| All beauteous things for which we live | |
| By laws of time and space decay. | |
| But O, the very reason why | |
| I clasp them, is because they die. | |
|
|