Part 12 (1/2)

Why, he is free to leave the land, The silver old in either hand, Has silver ways to walk upon

And who should chide, or bid him stay?

Or taunt, or threat, or bid him fly?

The world's for sale, I hear old to buy

Buy what? Buy rest? He could not rest!

Buy gentle sleep? He could not sleep, Though all these graves ide and deep As their wide mouths with the request

Buy Love, buy faith, buy snohite truth?

Buy ht, present, past?

Buy but one brimful cup of youth That calm souls drink of to the last?

O God! 'tis pitiful to see This miser so forlorn and old!

O God! how poor a old!

VIII

The broad e, as if the ed here till the afternoon

Oh, vast white blosso love!

White bosom of my lady dead, In your white heaven overhead I look, and learn to look above

IX

All night the tall nolia kept Kind watch above the naray of morn, where roses wept

The deet roses wept; their eyes All dew, their breath as sweet as prayer

And as they wept, the dead down there Did feel their tears and hear their sighs

The grass uprose as if afraid Soht press too near; Its every blade was like a spear, Its every spear a living blade

The grass above that nariht lay where she was laid

X

'Twas morn, and yet it was notof a birth, Just saying that a day was born

The reat low sea-lake, Ponchartrain, Shut off fros, as half awake:

Drew long stork legs, long legs that steep In slis that stir the grass, As when the late lorn night-winds pass