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December 5
BURY Hope out of sight, | |
| No book for it and no bell; | |
| It never could bear the light | |
| Even while growing and well; | |
| Think if now it could bear | 5 |
| The light on its face of care | |
| And grey scattered hair. | |
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| No grave for Hope in the earth, | |
| But deep in that silent soul | |
| Which rang no bell for its birth | 10 |
| And rings no funeral toll. | |
| Cover its once bright head: | |
| Nor odours nor tears be shed: | |
| It lived once, it is dead. | |
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| Brief was the day of its power, | 15 |
| The day of its grace how brief: | |
| As the fading of a flower, | |
| As the falling of a leaf, | |
| So brief its day and its hour: | |
| No bud more and no bower | 20 |
| Or hint of a flower. | |
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| Shall many wail it? not so: | |
| Shall one bewail it? not one: | |
| Thus it hath been from long ago, | |
| Thus it shall be beneath the sun. | 25 |
| O fleet sun, make haste to flee; | |
| O rivers, fill up the sea; | |
| O Death, set the dying free. | |
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| The sun nor loiters nor speeds, | |
| The rivers run as they ran, | 30 |
| Through clouds or through windy reeds | |
| All run as when all began. | |
| Only Death turns at our cries:— | |
| Lo, the Hope we buried with sighs | |
| Alive in Death’s eyes! | 35 |
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