The Symbol
Thus pass the glories of the world! He lies beneath the palls white folds: His sword is sheathed, his pennon furled, Him silence holds. The pilgrim staff, the cockle shell, The crown, the sceptre of his pride, The simple flower from forest dell, Heap at his side. And add thereto the wild-heart lute The voice of love and twilight song; Those passioned strings though he is mute Remember long. And move not thence his evening book, The sifted grains of calm and storm; And bow before that dust-strewn nook And silent form. To-morrow hath no hope for him, No clasp of friend, no grip of foe: Remember, love, with eyes tear-dim, We too must go.
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"Thus pass the glories of the world!..."
James Hebblethwaite's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Symbol"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...