At Last.
WHAT will you give me, O World, O World!
If I run in the race and win?
Will you give me a fame that can never fade,
Will you give me a crown that will never rust,
Can you save my soul from the pall of sin,
Can you keep my heart from the dust?
What will you give me, O Earth, O Earth!
If I fight in the fray and win?
More than you gave those kings, who lay
Ages past in forgotten clay?
Can you give me more than the grave shuts in,
Or the years can bear away?
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Fame will fade and crowns will rust.
Give me, O Earth, but your true embrace,
When the battle is lost or won.
Hide me away from the day's white face,
From the eye of the dazzling sun.
So I may lay my head on your breast,
Forget the struggle and be at rest;
Forget the laurels that fade away,
The love that lasts but a wild, brief day;
Forget it all, on your bosom pressed,
Forever at rest—at rest!
Transcriber's Notes:
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