Till the sea gives up its dead,
There they lie in quiet sleep,
And the voices of the deep
Sound unheeded overhead,
Till the sea gives up its dead.
PLEASANT PROPHECIES
A day of gladness yet will dawn,
Though when I cannot say;
Perhaps it may be Thursday week,
Perhaps some other day,—
When man, freed from the bond of clothes,
And needing no more food,
Shall never pull his neighbour’s nose,
But be extremely good.
When Love and Nobleness shall live
Next door to Truth and Right,
While Reverence shall rent a room,
Upon the second flight.
And wishes shall be horses then,
And beggars shall be kings;
And all the people shall admire
This pleasant state of things.
But if it seems a mystery,
And you’re inclined to doubt it,
Just ask your local poet. He
Will tell you all about it.
THE DELIGHTS OF MATHEMATICS
It seems a hundred years or more
Since I, with note-book, ink and pen,
In cap and gown, first trod the floor
Which I have often trod since then;
Yet well do I remember when,
With fifty other fond fanatics,
I sought delights beyond my ken,
The deep delights of Mathematics.
I knew that two and two made four,
I felt that five times two were ten,
But, as for all profounder lore,
The robin redbreast or the wren,