Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Thomas StephensCollier888 Quatrains
T
The days and nights are but the same as when
The earth awoke with the first rush of song,
And felt the swiftly passing feet of men.
“B
“I hold the key of life and light:”
And, lo, one touched him, and he died
Within the passing of a night.
H
Walked slowly with bent head and weary breath,
And cried, “Alas, I cannot stay my feet,
That move unceasing toward the gate of Death.”
F
We harvest dreams that never come to pass,
Then pour our wine amid the dying fire,
And on the cold hearth break the empty glass.
N
And to grim want give but a passing breath;
For after labor comes the rest of sleep,
And hunger cannot make its home with death.