John Myers O'Hara

(1870-1944 / United States)

In Patris Mei Memoriam

By the fond name that was his own and mine,
   The last upon his lips that strove with doom,
   He called me and I saw the light assume
A sudden glory and around him shine;
And nearer now I saw the laureled line
   Of the august of Song before me loom,
   And knew the voices, erstwhile through the gloom,
That whispered and forbade me to repine.
And with farewell, a shaft of splendor sank

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