His Immortality
I saw a dead man’s finer partShining within each faithful heartOf those bereft. Then said I: “This must beHis immortality.”
I looked there as the seasons wore,And still his soul continuously upboreIts life in theirs. But less its shine excelledThan when I first beheld.
His fellow-yearsmen passed, and thenIn later hearts I looked for him again;And found him—shrunk, alas! into a thinAnd spectral mannikin.
Lastly I ask—now old and chill—If aught of him remain unperished still;And find, in me alone, a feeble spark,Dying amid the dark.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.