Classic Poem

I pray you, pause; awhile forget
The trifling things of every day;
For here, as moonlight lingers yet,
A Soul is passing on its way.

Still toils the heart, a faithful thing
That questioned not nor asked for ease;
But now it tires; at life's deep spring
The crimson currents fail and freeze.

The eyes that answered ours so long
Can see us not — we drift away
Like summer clouds, a transient throng
Of shapes they looked on yesterday.

Thou passing Soul, so close the clasp
Of vibrant nerve and surging blood;
'Tis hard to go, to reach and grasp,
In blinding dark, the hand of God.

What countless cords must broken be,
What strange adjustments must be made,
Before the prisoned soul is free
From earth's hard rule and long parade!

New thought invades the darkening brain,
The lips are stiffening with a smile;
No more the doubt or fear or pain
Of time's tempestuous little-while.

Ah, look! the face is changing so,
It seems a stranger's, even now;
A carven face, as cold as snow:
Before its majesty we bow!

I pray you, pause; awhile forget
The trifling things of every day;
For here, as moonlight lingers yet,
A Soul is passing on its way.

Still toils the heart, a faithful thing
That questioned not nor asked for ease;
But now it tires; at life's deep spring
The crimson currents fail and freeze.

The eyes that answered ours so long
Can see us not — we drift away
Like summer clouds, a transient throng
Of shapes they looked on yesterday.

Thou passing Soul, so close the clasp
Of vibrant nerve and surging blood;
'Tis hard to go, to reach and grasp,
In blinding dark, the hand of God.

What countless cords must broken be,
What strange adjustments must be made,
Before the prisoned soul is free
From earth's hard rule and long parade!

New thought invades the darkening brain,
The lips are stiffening with a smile;
No more the doubt or fear or pain
Of time's tempestuous little-while.

Ah, look! the face is changing so,
It seems a stranger's, even now;
A carven face, as cold as snow:
Before its majesty we bow!