John McCrae

A Song of Comfort

        "Sleep, weary ones, while ye may —
            Sleep, oh, sleep!"
                    Eugene Field.

Thro' May time blossoms, with whisper low,
The soft wind sang to the dead below:
    "Think not with regret on the Springtime's song
    And the task ye left while your hands were strong.
    The song would have ceased when the Spring was past,
    And the task that was joyous be weary at last."

To the winter sky when the nights were long
The tree-tops tossed with a ceaseless song:
    "Do ye think with regret on the sunny days
    And the path ye left, with its untrod ways?
    The sun might sink in a storm cloud's frown
    And the path grow rough when the night came down."

In the grey twilight of the autumn eves,
It sighed as it sang through the dying leaves:
    "Ye think with regret that the world was bright,
    That your path was short and your task was light;
    The path, though short, was perhaps the best
    And the toil was sweet, that it led to rest."

About the poet
John McCrae
By the same poet
In Flanders Fields
The Anxious Dead
The Warrior
The Unconquered Dead
The Captain
The Song of the Derelict
Then and Now
The Hope of My Heart
Slumber Songs
The Oldest Drama
Mine Host
The Dead Master
The Harvest of the Sea
The Dying of Pere Pierre
Upon Watts' Picture "Sic Transit"
The Pilgrims
The Shadow of the Cross
The Night Cometh
In Due Season
Related books
John McCrae at amazon.co.uk

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