Part 2 — THE LAST WORD
Reading edition
When I have folded up this tent And laid the soiled thing by, I shall go forth 'neath different stars, Under an unknown sky.
And yet whatever house I find Beneath the grass or snow Will ne'er be tenantless of love Or lack the face I know.
O lips—wild roses wet with rain! Blown hair of drifted brown! O passionate eyes! O panting heart— When in that colder town
I lie, the one inhabitant, My hands across my breast, How warm through all eternity The summer of my rest!
To each frail root beneath the ground That thrusts its flower above, I shall impart a fiercer sap— I who have known your love!
And growing things will lean to me To learn what love hath won, Till I shall whisper to the dust That secret of the Sun.
Yea, though my spirit never wake To hear the voice I knew, Even an endless sleep would be Stirred by the dreams of You!
Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]