Page:Le Tombeau de Théophile Gautier, 1873.djvu/143

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A FUNERAL SONG


FOR THÉOTHILE GAUTIER





     What shall our song be for the mighty dead,
     For this our master that is ours no more?
     Lo ! for the dead was none of those that wore
The laurel lightly on a heedless head,
Chanting a song of idle lustihead,
     Among the sun-kissed rose on the shore !
     This our beloved, that is gone before,
Was of the race of heroes battle-bred,
That from the dawn-white to the sunset-red
     Fought in the front of war !

Lo ! this was he that in the weary time,
     In many a devious and darkling way,
     Through dusk of doubt and thunder of dismay
Held our hearts hopeful with his resonant rhyme,
Lifting our lives above the smoke and slime
     Into some splendid summer for away,
     Where the sun brimmed the chalice of the day
With gold of heaven and the accordant chime