English poem
To Frank Mathew, II
by Lionel Johnson (1867–1902)
Hence, by stern thoughts and strong winds borne, Voyaged, with faith that could not fail, Who cried: Lead, kindly Light! forlorn Beneath a stranger sail.
Becalmed upon a classic sea; Wandering through eternal Rome; Fighting with Death in Sicily: He hungered for his home.
These northern waves, these island airs! Dreams of these haunted his full heart: Their love inspired his songs and prayers, Bidding him play his part.
The freedom of the living dead; The service of a living pain: He chose between them, bowed his head, And counted sorrow, gain.
Ah, sweetest soul of all! whose choice Was golden with the light of lights: But us doubt's melancholy voice, Wandering in gloom, unites.
Ah, sweetest soul of all! whose voice Hailed morning, and the sun's increase: We of the restless night rejoice, We also, at thy peace.