Fragment, A

“O Death! O Grave! O vague Hereafter!
    O fathomless Wonder,
    Lying under
    Our clear, dim, bright, dark Life,
    Stirred never by its strife,
        Its joys and woes, its griefs and noisy laughter,
    O, answer us!” ye cry,
        In loud despairing;—
    “O, answer us!” most hollow hearts reply;
    Then voice and echo die,
    Quivering an instant fitfully,
Like a sick torch-flame, quenched amid its flaring.
    A moment more,
       The lover sinks where sunk the loved before,
And the wild world whirls on, wild as it whirled of yore.
*    *    *    *    *    *    *
        Let the earth-whirl roll along;
           Leave the dead their dead to bury;
           God hath reared his sanctuary
        In the hearts of wise and strong;
           Wheresoe’er his vital breath
           Pulses, cometh naught of Death.
           How can Death be where God is?