Before my light goes out for ever if God should give me a choice of <br />graces, <br />I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be; <br />But cry: 'One day of the great lost days, one face of all the faces, <br />Grant me to see and touch once more and nothing more to see. <br /> <br />'For, Lord, I was free of all Thy flowers, but I chose the world's <br />sad roses, <br />And that is why my feet are torn and mine eyes are blind with sweat, <br />But at Thy terrible judgment-seat, when this my tired life closes, <br />I am ready to reap whereof I sowed, and pay my righteous debt. <br /> <br />'But once before the sand is run and the silver thread is broken, <br />Give me a grace and cast aside the veil of dolorous years, <br />Grant me one hour of all mine hours, and let me see for a token <br />Her pure and pitiful eyes shine out, and bathe her feet with tears.' <br /> <br />Her pitiful hands should calm, and her hair stream down and blind me, <br />Out of the sight of night, and out of the reach of fear, <br />And her eyes should be my light whilst the sun went out behind me, <br />And the viols in her voice be the last sound in mine ear. <br /> <br />Before the ruining waters fall and my life be carried under, <br />And Thine anger cleave me through as a child cuts down a flower, <br />I will praise Thee, Lord in Hell, while my limbs are racked asunder, <br />For the last sad sight of her face and the little grace of an hour.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/impentitent-ultima/
