Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/80

 Fall hurtling each on other, And triumph as they die; But thine and thou, my brother, Keep heart and wing more high.

More high than wrath or anguish, More strong than pride or fear, The sense or soul half hidden In thee, for us forbidden, Bids thee nor change nor languish, But live thy life as here, More high than wrath or anguish, More strong than pride or fear.

We are fallen, even we, whose passion On earth is nearest thine; Who sing, and cease from flying; Who live, and dream of dying: