Words
W
HEN I have gone from earth, though
soon or late,
The years will come and go, nor hesitate
In their calm passing. This my universe
Will turn on its unhurried way, no worse
In order with me gone, than with me here;
But the words I now speak will be sounding dear
In the memory of those I leave behind,
For words once spoken cling to heart and mind
To echo down the years. O tongue, be sure
In speaking that which strangely will endure,
After the one who utters it is gone
Beyond the sunset and beyond the dawn.
O lips be quick to stay the hasty speech!
Too far, too far its influence will reach,
Clinging to life as words have ever clung.
Shape well your words today, O lips, O tongue!
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