BEYOND the north wind lay the land of old <br />Where men dwelt blithe and blameless, clothed and fed <br />With joy’s bright raiment and with love’s sweet bread, <br />The whitest flock of earth’s maternal fold. <br />None there might wear about his brows enrolled <br />A light of lovelier fame than rings your head, <br />Whose lovesome love of children and the dead <br />All men give thanks for: I far off behold <br />A dear dead hand that links us, and a light <br />The blithest and benignest of the night, <br />The night of death’s sweet sleep, wherein may be <br />A star to show your spirit in present sight <br />Some happier island in the Elysian sea <br />Where Rab may lick the hand of Marjorie.<br /><br />Algernon Charles Swinburne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-dr-john-brown-sonnets/
