AMBERGRIS 
21 
We have no more day, we are fain to say 
Alas ! 
 
In Love’s a cure 
For Fortune’s hate ; 
In Love’s a lure 
Shall laugh at Fate ; 
We have tolled Death’s knell ; 
All streams are pure ; 
We are new-create ; 
All’s well, all’s well ! 
We have God to endure, we are very sure 
All’s well ! 
 
In such wise rang the challenge unto Death 
With clear high eloquence and happy breath ; 
So did a brave sad heart grow glad again 
And mock the riddle that the dead Sphinx saith. 
 
When I am dead, remember me for this 
That I bade workers work, and lovers kiss ; 
Laughed with the Stoic at the dream of pain, 
And preached with Jesus the evangel bliss. 
 
When I am dead, think kindly.  Rail my song ! 
’Twas the poor utterance of an eager tongue ; 
I stutter in my rime ?  my heart was full 
Of greater longings, more divinely wrung 
 
By love and pity and regret and trust, 
High hope from heaven that God will be just, 
Spurn not the child because his mind was dull, 
Still less condemn him for his father’s lust. 
 
Yet I think priests shall answer Him in vain : 
Their gospel of disgrace, disease, and pain, 
Shall move His heart of Love to such a wrath 
O Heart !  Turn back and look on Love again !