SWEET names, the rosary of my evening prayer,
Told on my lips like kisses of good-night
To friends who go a little from my sight,
And some through distant years shine clear and fair!—
So this dear burden that I daily bear
Mighty God taketh, and doth loose me quite;
And soft I sink in slumbers pure and light
With thoughts of human love and heavenly care;
But when I mark how into shadow slips
My manhood’s prime, and weep fast-passing friends,
And heaven’s riches making poor my lips,
And think how in the dust love’s labor ends,
Then, where the cluster of my hearth-stone shone,
“Bid me not live,” I sigh, “till all be gone.”