FOR REMEMBRANCE.
In stone perdurable and bronze austere
We have bequeathed the memory of the dead
Unto the yet unborn; " 'their name,' " we said,
" 'Liveth for evermore'; each happier year
Shall see, we trust, before the unmossed stone
Love and Remembrance wed."
Though from dim hosts that narrow and recede
Dear unforgotten eyes salute us still,
Look back a moment, make our pulses thrill
With the old music, though the festal weed
Of Spring be cypress-girt, oblivion
Will come, as Winter will.
Ah, not oblivion drowsing love and pain
Into dull slumber; still we can retell
How young blithe valour broke the powers of hell;
We grope for hands that will not stir again
In ours, hear still in every carillon
The cadence of Farewell.
Not these things and not thus do we forget;
But the informing spirit, the dream within
And the high ardour that was half-akin
To ancient faiths and half to hopes not yet
Coherent, unperceived are surely gone,
Like stars that dawnward set.
Though "their name liveth," the dream they died to bring
Unto fruition eludes our fumbling hold;
The Othman riders gallop to their old
Red revels, and the seas are darkening
Round all the Asian shores, while one by one
Depart the sweets of Spring.
O you whom yet we mourn, for whom the song
Of victory and sorrow dies not away,
Well is it with you if beyond the grey
Islands of sleep that you are met among
No world-born memories win. May there be none!
We have not remembered long.
Yet if beyond the sunset's golden choir,
Instead of one august enduring sleep,
There waits a life where memory shall keep
Her ancient force and hope her old desire,
Now, even now, on altars cleft and prone
Rekindle the pure fire!
D. M. S.