William (johnson) Cory
¶[1823-1892]
Heraclitus
¶THEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shedI wept as I remember'd how often you and IHad tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
¶And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
MlMNERMUS IN CHURCH
¶You promise heavens free from strife,Pure truth, and perfect change of will;But sweet, sweet is this human life,So sweet, I fain would breathe it still:Your chilly stars I can forego,This warm kind world is all I know.
¶You say there is no substance here,One great reality above:Back from that void I shrink in fear,And child-like hide myself in love:Show me what angels feel. Till then,I cling, a mere weak man, to men.
¶You bid me lift my mean desiresFrom faltering lips and fitful veinsTo sexless souls, ideal quires,Unwearied voices, wordless strains:My mind with fonder welcome ownsOne dear dead friend's remembered tones.
¶Forsooth the present we must giveTo that which cannot pass away;All beauteous things for which we liveBy laws of time and space decay.But oh, the very reason whyI clasp them, is because they die.