The Dead

THE dead abide with us ! Though stark and cold
Earth seems to grip them, they are with us still :
They have forged our chains of being for good or ill ;
And their invisible hands these hands yet hold.
Our perishable bodies are the mould
In which their strong imperishable will —
Mortality's deep yearning to fulfil —
Hath grown incorporate through dim time untold.
Vibrations infinite of life in death,
As a star's travelling light survives its star !
So may we hold our lives, that when we are
The fate of those who then will draw this breath,
They shall not drag us to their judgment-bar,
And curse the heritage which we bequeath.