| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1340. Epicedium |
| | | By Horace L. Traubel |
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| LIKE to the leaf that falls, | |
| Like to the rose that fades, | |
| Thou art—and still art not! | |
| We whom this thought enthralls, | |
| We whom this mystery shades, | 5 |
| Are bared before our lot! | |
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| Like to the light gone out, | |
| Like to the sun gone down, | |
| Thou art—and yet we feel | |
| That something more than doubt, | 10 |
| And more than Nature’s frown, | |
| The Great Good must reveal. | |
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| ’T is not with thankless heart, | |
| Nor yet with covert hand, | |
| We reach from deeps to thee: | 15 |
| We take out grief apart, | |
| And with it bravely stand | |
| Beside the voiceless sea! | |
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| O, gentle memory mine— | |
| I fill the world with thee, | 20 |
| And with thy blessing sleep! | |
| But for thy love divine | |
| To warm the day for me, | |
| Why should I wake or weep? | |
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