Yorick

  A golden largesse from a store untold
  Announced the ruddy day’s imperial birth,
  And woke a loyal world to jubilant mirth
  And hopes that boasted, madly over-bold.
  Shadow and thunder from a dull cloud rolled,
  A shiver chilled the lately glittering firth,
  As gloom set heavy hand upon the earth;
  Yet look, on westward hills a gleam of gold.
  You have laughed and bidden us laugh, O lord of jest;
  You have wept and given us grief, O lonely friend;
  And now we sit with silent lips and white,
  And dream what craggy ways thou wanderest,
  Not finding yet of hope or strife an end,
  O soul set free from bondage of the night.