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COMMEMORATION
"O Youth," the preacher was crying, "deem not thouThy life is thine alone;Thou bearest the will of the ages, seeing howThey built thee bone by bone,And within thy blood the Great Age sleeps sepulchredTill thou and thine shall roll away the stone.
"Therefore the days are coming when thou shalt burnWith passion whitely hot;Rest shall be rest no more; thy feet shall spurnAll that thy hand hath got;And One that is stronger shall gird thee, and lead thee swiftlyWhither, O heart of Youth, thou wouldest not."
And the School passed; and I saw the living and deadSet in their seats again,And I longed to hear them speak of the word that was said,But I knew that I longed in vain.And they stretched forth their hands, and the wind of the spirit took themLightly as drifted leaves on an endless plain.
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