ROSE of all Roses, Rose of all the World!tThe tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurledtAbove the tide of hours, trouble the air,tAnd God’s bell buoyed to be the water’s care;tWhile hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a bandt With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand.tTurn if you may from battles never done,tI call, as they go by me one by one,tDanger no refuge holds, and war no peace,tFor him who hears love sing and never cease,t Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:tBut gather all for whom no love hath madetA woven silence, or but came to casttA song into the air, and singing pasttTo smile on the pale dawn; and gather yout Who have sought more than is in rain or dewtOr in the sun and moon, or on the earth,tOr sighs amid the wandering starry mirth,tOr comes in laughter from the sea’s sad lips;tAnd wage God’s battles in the long grey ships.t The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,tTo these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;tGod’s bell has claimed them by the little crytOf their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.tRose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!t You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurledtUpon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ringtThe bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.tBeauty grown sad with its eternitytMade you of us, and of the dim grey sea.tOur long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,tFor God has bid them share an equal fate;tAnd when at last defeated in His wars,tThey have gone down under the same white stars,tWe shall no longer hear the little cryt Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.The Sweet Far Thing
ROSE of all Roses, Rose of all the World!tThe tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurledtAbove the tide of hours, trouble the air,tAnd God’s bell buoyed to be the water’s care;tWhile hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a bandt With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand.tTurn if you may from battles never done,tI call, as they go by me one by one,tDanger no refuge holds, and war no peace,tFor him who hears love sing and never cease,t Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:tBut gather all for whom no love hath madetA woven silence, or but came to casttA song into the air, and singing pasttTo smile on the pale dawn; and gather yout Who have sought more than is in rain or dewtOr in the sun and moon, or on the earth,tOr sighs amid the wandering starry mirth,tOr comes in laughter from the sea’s sad lips;tAnd wage God’s battles in the long grey ships.t The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,tTo these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;tGod’s bell has claimed them by the little crytOf their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.tRose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!t You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurledtUpon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ringtThe bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.tBeauty grown sad with its eternitytMade you of us, and of the dim grey sea.tOur long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,tFor God has bid them share an equal fate;tAnd when at last defeated in His wars,tThey have gone down under the same white stars,tWe shall no longer hear the little cryt Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.The Sweet Far Thing
