Verse > Anthologies > Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. > The Second Book of Modern Verse
Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948).  The Second Book of Modern Verse.  1922.
Mahlon Leonard Fisher
THERE was a day when death to me meant tears,
  And tearful takings-leave that had to be,
  And awed embarkings on an unshored sea,
And sudden disarrangement of the years.
But now I know that nothing interferes        5
  With the fixed forces when a tired man dies;
  That death is only answerings and replies,
The chiming of a bell which no one hears,
The casual slanting of a half-spent sun,
  The soft recessional of noise and coil,        10
  The coveted something time nor age can spoil;
I know it is a fabric finely spun
  Between the stars and dark; to seize and keep,
  Such glad romances as we read in sleep.


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