Classic Poem

In the white future, in the coming years,
We will forget our sorrow and our woe:
We will forget these death-extorted tears.
Above yon open grave the turf will grow,
And flowers hide the failures and the fears
Of long ago.

In the white future, in the unborn days,
Warm winds will steal the clouds that hide the sun.
Over the ruins roughening our ways,
Lichen in green luxuriance will run,
And memory will only sing the praise
Of battles won.

In the dim future, when the spray is blown
From the near Jordan in our hair and eyes,
Shadows will show the stars that have been strewn
Over blue heaven, till we realise
How there are things invisible, unknown,
Beyond the skies.