Orpheus

In silence I wait For his voice to roll, For the coming of Fate, The strength of my soul. My words create One glorious whole From the fragments divided that seem past a man’s or a god's control. I, seeing the life Of the flowers renew, The victorious strife Of the spring run through, The child’s birth rife With loftier dew— I know the deep truth in myself ; see acacia in cypress and yew. Death is not at all! ’Tis a mask or a dream! The things that befall Only slumber or seem ! They fear; they appal— They are not as ye deem! Death died when I dipped my lyre in the sweet Heli- conian stream! Give praise to your lord, All souls that draw breath, All flowers of the sward! For the song of me saith: 95