The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1899-08-27
LAST WORDS oF POETS.
Verses Written in Their Last Mo-
nlents by Famous Bnrds.


From the I,d,araro,ts ST,
Shortly heforo trer,5 LIS it
for a COPY of Sbakesneare ana nassed
away with the volume in his hands his
myers upon the diTge in "Cymbeline:"
Fear no more the heat of sun,
Nor the winters icy RACES;
1nou thy earthly task hath done
home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Joyous boys and girls all must
Like chimney sweepers come 10 dust.
In some persons This action would have
been presumptuouslv dramatic out in the
author of the Crossing of The Rar" in
was merely another illustration of the
ruling passion being strong i'm death. Nor
long before had he given the world his
undying death song:
Twilight and evening bell
And after that the dark:
And may there be no sadness of fare
well
w men l embark.
The dying speak better than the living
for their souls presaging "a somewhere
else" often attain a nobler speech
other life upon which they are entering
Tender and solemn are the last words
of Shelley's great poem, The Triumph
of Death" written as he drifted in his
boat over the blue waters of the bay
IN when ne was to die. Their unfinished
conditloh ADDS TO the pathos OF the lines,
lor they close Abruptly WiIh the inquiry
Then what IS hte?' l cried
He received his answer almost imme-
diately in the halls of death; yet the
whole thing remains commentary on the
poor fellows troubled Ii a and premature
death. Byron wrote his last poem on
his last birthday at fever heated Mis-
soulonghi where he had gone to take part
IN the struggle OF Greece Tor liberty He
meldhchoIy Dreathed IN ms last INES:
The days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker and the grief
Are mine alone.
Arthur Hugh Clough a remarkab Bile man
whose whole life was a struggle with
doubt, in his noble death poem at last
spoke hopefully:
Co.. ,ot ~, .tr,,,...,o ,,,,,o,,,. o,,,,,o+,
~, ne go anu 'iT Woui'us aie EaIti
"a - - -, 80, 80 -
Ava r,,+ -, eo....,, .,,.ao,,., .,,.
In from, t5 ' SIM ciin1bs snWiymbo SLOW.
- - w., '--0 sun S''
t,,,+ r,.,s+,,-,.7 i,ot,, ~, Land e tricL+
- Wv
compare lhls verse with verse from
LohsIeiIoW last Poem' Inc bens Oh
Sah BIAS
o bells of san Bias! In vain
Ye call back the past again;
The past is deaf to your prayers;
Out of the shadow of night
The world rolls into sight:
1t is daybreak everywhere.
The last poem of Whittier was written
to Oliver Wendell Holmes as the author
was standing at the very gate of eternity:
The hour draws near, howe'er delayed or
late,
When at the Eternal Gate
we leave the words ana works we call
our own,
ana lllt Void hanus aiohe
FOR love OF TO NIL Our nakedness OF soul
Brlngs 10 that gate no toll;
Glttless we come TO HIM VINO all things
gives,
ANA HVe-pecause lie IVES
Browning Dreathed the same lofty spirit
IN ms last words spoken 10 TREND at mis-
deathoed: Never say OF me that am
dead.
One who never turned his back, but
marched breast forward;
Never doubted cloud would break;
Never dreamed thought right was worst
ed, wrong would triumph;
Held, we fall 10 rise again; are baff1ed, 60
fight better;
Sleep to wake;
No, at MONDAY, In the busue OF mems
work time,
Greet the unseen with cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back, as
either should be;
Strive and thrive, cry, speed, night on,
forever,
mere as mere
"Never say of me that / am dead" were
in of la 81 of