SIGH not to be remembered, dear,
Nor for Time’s fickle graces strive;
Vex not thy spirit’s songful cheer
With the sick ardor to survive.
But be content, thou quick bright thing
A while than lasting stars more fair:
A lone high-flashing skylark’s wing
Across obliterating air.
O rich in immortality!
Not thee Fame’s graven stones benight;
But ever, to some world-worn eye,
All Heaven is bluer for thy flight.
DE MORTUIS.
THE skilfullest of mankind!
So praise him, reckoning
By shot in the sea-gull’s wing,
By doubts in boyhood’s mind.
DOWN STREAM.
