English poem
Xv
by R. D. Blackmore (1825–1900)
"Thou hast seen; my faith is plighted, That I will not fly my doom. Honour is a flower unblighted, Though the fates cut off its bloom.
"I have sent my last sun sleeping, And I am ashamed of weeping. God, my new God, give me grace To be worthy of my race.
"Though this death our bodies sever, Thou shalt find me there above; Where I shall be learning ever, To be worthy of thy love."