Page:The Happy Marriage and Other Poems.pdf/88

 A perfect rhythm, a fierce suspended note Of life intensely living, gay,— I know again that day.

Ah, pitiful! He had no splendid dream, No song, no vision's spark, To lead him, blind, with fitful tossing gleam Beyond your hour of dark; He had no dream Who was himself a music and a flame, Who sought not glory, but himself became The glory of his victories, Who died Clean washed in anger and the fighter's pride, Unearthed of ease, And down those burning skies Fell like a shattered star.

O Rosa Mundi—in the rose that dies Something there is, not mystical and far,