Classic Poem

Within the church on All Souls' Day
I knelt with those uncomforted,
Who bowed their weary heads to pray
Their sad prayers for the happy dead.

We, with the sting of tears still hot
Upon our faces, prayed for those
Who have forgot all tears, forgot
The long passed pageant of old woes.

We of the anxious soul and brain,
Prayed peace for those who ever dwell
In that great calm that follows pain,
Safe-housed in God's white citadel.

O, futile, tender mockery!
We, hampered, fettered in the strife,
To pray for those glad souls made free
Of the great burden that is life.

Dear God, another prayer I said;
Humbly I asked who might not give:
Pray ye for us, thrice happy dead,
For us who live—for us who live!