To Go Beyond

What hope is hero for modern rhyme

To him, who turns a musing eye

One sings, and deeds, and lives, that lie

Foreshortened in the tract of time?

These mortal lullabies of pain

May bind a book, may line a box,

May serve to curle a mainden´s locks;

Or when a thousand moons shall wane

A man upon a stall may find,

And, passing, may turn the page that tells

A grief, than changed to something else,

Sung by a long-forgotten mind.

But what of that? My darkened ways

Shall ring with music all the same;

To breathe my loss is more than fame,

To utter love mores sweet than praise