Dust To Dust

Topics: classic

Heavenly Archer, bend thy bow; Now the flame of life burns low, Youth is gone; I, too, would go. Even Fortune leads to this: Harsh or kind, at last she is Murderess of all ecstasies. Yet the spirit, dark, alone, Bound in sense, still hearkens on For tidings of a bliss foregone. Sleep is well for dreamless head, At no breath astonishd, From the Gardens of the Dead. I the immortal harps hear ring, By Babylon's river languishing. Heavenly Archer, loose thy string.

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"Heavenly Archer, bend thy bow;..."

Walter De La Mare's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Dust To Dust"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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