Cry of the Ten Thousand I STAND upon the summit of my life, Behind, the camp, the court, the field, the grove, The battle, and the burden: vast, afar Beyond these weary ways. Behold! the Sea! The sea o’erswept by clouds and winds and wings; By thoughts and wishes manifold, whose breath Is freshness and whose mighty pulse is peace. Palter no question of the horizon dim— Cut loose the bark! Such voyage itself is rest, Majestic motion, unimpeded scope, A widening heaven, a current without care, Eternity!—deliverance, promise, course! Time-tired souls salute thee from the shore.
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Sub Title:
V. Death and Bereavement