Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/139



or light is it now, wherein Sleeps, shut out from the wild world's din, Wakes, alive with a life more clear, One who found not on earth his kin?

Sleep were sweet for awhile, were dear Surely to souls that were heartless here, Souls that faltered and flagged and fell, Soft of spirit and faint of cheer.

A living soul that had strength to quell Hope the spectre and fear the spell, Clear-eyed, content with a scorn sublime And a faith superb, can it fare not well?