Yorick

A GOLDEN largesse from a store untold
    Announced the ruddy day’s imperial birth,
    And woke a loyal world to jubilant mirth
And hopes that boasted, madly over-bold.
Shadow and thunder from a dull cloud rolled,
    A shiver chilled the lately glittering firth,
    As gloom set heavy hand upon the earth;
Yet look—on westward hills a gleam of gold.

You have laughed and bidden us laugh, O lord of jest;
    You have wept and given us grief, O lonely friend;
        And now we sit with silent lips and white,
And dream what craggy ways thou wanderest,
    Not finding yet of hope or strife an end,
        O soul set free from bondage of the night.

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