THE HARDEST LOT
by: John White Chadwick
(1840-1904)
- O look upon
the face of a dead friend
- Is hard; but 'tis not more than we can bear
- If, haply, we can see peace written there,--
- Peace after pain, and welcome so the end,
- Whate'er the past, whatever death may send.
- Yea, and that face a gracious smile may wear,
- If love till death was perfect, sweet, and fair;
- But there is woe from which may God defend:
- To look upon our friendship lying dead,
- While we live on, and eat, and drink, and sleep--
- Mere bodies from which all the soul has fled--
- And that dead thing year after year to keep
- Locked in cold silence in its dreamless bed:--
- There must be hell while there is such a deep.
"The Hardest Lot" is reprinted
from American Sonnets. Ed. William Sharp. London: Walter
Scott, 1889. |
MORE POEMS BY JOHN WHITE CHADWICK |
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