May 30
Companions of the Way (Evening)THESE sad evenings of the May, These sad evenings of the May,
In a voice of human woe, Thus, methinks, they speak to me. What we bring we may not know, What we leave we cannot see, Thus we perish in bestowing; Tell us, then, for we are going, Is the green sward always green, And is there always the overflowing Of the perfume of the bean, And the sweet smell of the young wheat growing Under the twilight sheen?
Dear sad evenings of the May, Shivering as they steal away. How this wondrous life of ours, Equipped for all sublime endeavour, With all its light and all its powers, Yearning, glowing, striving ever, Loves these evenings of the May, And to what their cold lips say, Sends back an answer of good cheer.
Life means on, at Duty's call, Forward, straight on, whatever befall. Storms and darkness on my path Breed no semblance of despair, Ever to the gates of death My best offerings I bear. What I bring, I bring in faith; What I leave, I leave with prayer.
FRANCIS LUCAS, Sketches of Rural Life
GENTLE DEATH