Thanks , O wise Slave, whose message was so free!
And I would know that, when I cease to be,
I shall give place to something better worth—
Serene and glad—that shall delight this earth!

The place I fill so restlessly, ah, strange!
It shall be filled by great Creative Change;
When I shall sleep, unknowing and unskilled,
With bright and tranquil force it shall be filled.

I would I knew what marvel may arise
To take a morning-world with sweet surprise;
Moves in my place some soul unbodied yet,
Or soul returning, that cannot forget?

Or, but some soulless thing (as Man so counts)—
The rose of joy—a vine that wayward mounts—
Or some great tree that, waxing full of years,
Shall stand precentor of his forest-peers!

Who serves a living use shall never die!
I shall not be turned out of Life—not I!
But, since of beauty has the world such need,
A change into some beauty be my meed!