Classic Poem

IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER AND MOTHER

They have triumphed who have died;
They have passed the porches wide,
Leading from the House of Night
To the splendid lawns of light.
They have gone on that far road
Leading to their new abode,
And from curtained casements we
Watch their going wistfully.

Ah! that turn, that glimpse! That last
Wondering where their feet have passed!
They have read new meanings, they
Who have found the open way.
Now they know that hill and glen
Far beyond our mortal ken,
And they know why Winter turns
Into April; why Youth burns
With its dreams that go to rust,
Why men falter, and yet trust;
Why the Autumn grieves and sighs
Underneath the brooding skies;
Why the grass, with punctual feet,
Comes in Spring our eyes to greet,
And white dawn succeeds white dawn,
And the moon shines on and on.
They have left our House of Night,
Faring to the bournes of light.
Grieve not for them; rather, say,
" They are victors on the way;
They have won, for they have read
The bright secrets of the dead;
And they gain the deep unknown,
Hearing Life's strange undertone.
In the race across the days
They are victors; theirs the praise,
Theirs the glory and the pride —
They have triumphed, having died! "