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VISTA
BEFORE I die I may be great, | |
| The chanting guest of kings, | |
| A queen in wonderlands of song | |
| Where every blossom sings. | |
| I may put on a golden gown | 5 |
| And walk in sunny light, | |
| Carrying in my hair the day, | |
| And in my eyes the night. | |
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| It may be men will honor me— | |
| The wistful ones and wise, | 10 |
| Who know the ruth of victory, | |
| The joy of sacrifice. | |
| I may be rich, I may be gay, | |
| But all the crowns grow old— | |
| The laurel withers and the bay | 15 |
| And dully rusts the gold. | |
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| Before I die I may break bread | |
| With many queens and kings— | |
| Oh, take the golden gown away, | |
| For there are other things— | 20 |
| And I shall miss the love of babes | |
| With flesh of rose and pearl, | |
| The dewy eyes, the budded lips— | |
| A boy, a little girl. | |
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THE END
My father got me strong and straight and slim, | 25 |
| And I give thanks to him; | |
| My mother bore me glad and sound and sweet,— | |
| I kiss her feet. | |
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| But now, with me, their generation fails, | |
| And nevermore avails | 30 |
| To cast through me the ancient mould again, | |
| Such women and men. | |
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| I have no son, whose life of flesh and fire | |
| Sprang from my splendid sire, | |
| No daughter for whose soul my mother’s flesh | 35 |
| Wrought raiment fresh. | |
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| Life’s venerable rhythms like a flood | |
| Beat in my brain and blood, | |
| Crying from all the generations past, | |
| “Is this the last?” | 40 |
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| And I make answer to my haughty dead, | |
| Who made me, heart and head, | |
| “Even the sunbeams falter, flicker and bend— | |
| I am the end.” | |
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