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To a Friend Dying
THEY tell you that Death ’s at the turn of the road, | |
| That under the shade of a cypress you ’ll find him, | |
| And, struggling on wearily, lashed by the goad | |
| Of pain, you will enter the black mist behind him. | |
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| I can walk with you up to the ridge of the hill, | 5 |
| And we ’ll talk of the way we have come through the valley; | |
| Down below there a bird breaks into a trill, | |
| And a groaning slave bends to the oar of his galley. | |
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| You are up on the heights now, you pity the slave— | |
| “Poor soul, how fate lashes him on at his rowing! | 10 |
| Yet it ’s joyful to live, and it ’s hard to be brave | |
| When you watch the sun sink and the daylight is going.” | |
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| We are almost there—our last walk on this height— | |
| I must bid you good-bye at that cross on the mountain. | |
| See the sun glowing red, and the pulsating light | 15 |
| Fill the valley, and rise like the flood in a fountain! | |
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| And it shines in your face and illumines your soul; | |
| We are comrades as ever, right here at your going; | |
| You may rest if you will within sight of the goal, | |
| While I must return to my oar and the rowing. | 20 |
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| We must part now? Well, here is the hand of a friend; | |
| I will keep you in sight till the road makes its turning | |
| Just over the ridge within reach of the end | |
| Of your arduous toil,—the beginning of learning. | |
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| You will call to me once from the mist, on the verge, | 25 |
| “Au revoir!” and “Good night!” while the twilight is creeping | |
| Up luminous peaks, and the pale stars emerge? | |
| Yes, I hear your faint voice: “This is rest, and like sleeping!” | |
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