Page:Songs before sunrise (IA beforesunrisongs00swinrich).pdf/83

 But you, with sweet shut eyes, Heart-hidden memories, Dreams and dumb thoughts that keep what things have been Silent, and pure of all words said, Praise without song the living, without dirge the dead.

Thou, strengthless in these things, Song, fold thy feebler wings, And as a pilgrim go forth girt and shod, And where the new graves are, And where the sunset star, To the pure spirit of man that men call God, To the high soul of things, that is Made of men’s heavenlier hopes and mightier memories;

To the elements that make For the soul’s living sake This raiment of dead things, of shadow and trance, That give us chance and time Wherein to aspire and climb And set our life’s work higher than time or chance The old sacred elements, that give The breath of life to days that die, to deeds that live;