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Breaks and brightens, laughs and lessens, — even till eyes may hardly bear 15 Light that leaps and runs and revels through the springing flames of spray.
Year on year sheds light and music, rolled and flashed from bay to bay Round the summer capes of time and winter headlands keen and bare, Whence the soul keeps watch, and bids her vassal memory watch and pray, If perchance the dawn may quicken, or perchance the midnight spare. 20 Silence quells not music, darkness takes not sunlight in her snare: Shall not joys endure that perish 2 Yea, saith dawn, though night say nay: Life on life goes out; but very life enkindles everywhere Light that leaps and runs and revels through the springing flames of spray.
Friend, were life no more than this is, well would yet the living fare. 25 All aflower and all afire and all flung heavenward, who shall say Such a flash of life were worthless? This is worth a world of care, — Light that leaps and runs and revels through the springing flames of spray.
HOPE AND FEAR (1882)
Beneath the shadow of dawn's aerial cope, With eyes enkindled as the sun's own sphere, Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheer Looks Godward, – past the shades where blind men grope Round the dark door that prayers nor dreams can ope, – 5 And makes for joy the very darkness dear That gives her wide wings play; nor dreams that fear At noon may rise and pierce the heart of hope.
W. E. H. LECKY — AUSTIN DOBSON – R. L. STEVENSON
As a star's travelling light survives its star! 10
So may we hold our lives that, when we are
The fate of those who then will draw this breath,
They shall not drag us to their judgmentbar
And curse the heritage that we bequeath.
W. E. H. LECKY (1838-1903)
SAY NOT THAT THE PAST IS DEAD
Say not that the past is dead.
AUSTIN DOBSON (1840-1921)
[TH PIPE AND FLUTE (1877)
With pipe and flute the rustic Pan
Of old made music sweet for man;
The rolling river slowlier ran. 5
Ah! would, – ah! would, a little span,
But now for gold we plot and plan; 10
R. L. STEVENSON (1850-1894)
THE CELESTIAL SURGEON
If I have faltered more or less
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
This be the verse you grave for me: 5
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
THE MORNING DRUM-CALL (1896)
The morning drum-call on my eager ear
Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew Lies yet undried along my field of noon.
But now I pause at whiles in what I do,