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(From In Memoriam)
I PAST beside the reverend walls | |
| In which of old I wore the gown; | |
| I roved at random through the town, | |
| And saw the tumult of the halls; | |
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| And heard once more in college fanes | 5 |
| The storm their high-built organs make, | |
| And thunder-music, rolling, shake | |
| The prophets blazoned on the panes; | |
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| And caught once more the distant shout, | |
| The measured pulse of racing oars | 10 |
| Among the willows; paced the shores | |
| And many a bridge, and all about | |
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| The same gray flats again, and felt | |
| The same, but not the same; and last | |
| Up that long walk of limes I past | 15 |
| To see the rooms in which he dwelt. | |
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| Another name was on the door: | |
| I lingered; all within was noise | |
| Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys | |
| That crashed the glass and beat the floor; | 20 |
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| Where once we held debate, a band | |
| Of youthful friends, on mind and art | |
| And labor, and the changing mart, | |
| And all the framework of the land; | |
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| When one would aim an arrow fair, | 25 |
| But send it slackly from the string; | |
| And one would pierce an outer ring, | |
| And one an inner, here and there; | |
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| And last the master-bowman, he | |
| Would cleave the mark. A willing ear | 30 |
| We lent him. Who, but hung to hear | |
| The rapt oration flowing free | |
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| From point to point with power and grace, | |
| And music in the bounds of law, | |
| To those conclusions when we saw | 35 |
| The God within him light his face, | |
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| And seem to lift the form, and glow | |
| In azure orbits heavenly-wise; | |
| And over those ethereal eyes | |
| The bar of Michael Angelo. | 40 |
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