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.