Explore "Roosevelt, 1919" by Helen Gray Cone on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
MOODS OF WAR
How shall we say "God rest him! " / Of him who loved not rest, / But the pathless plunge in the forest / And the pauseless quest, / And the call of the billowing mountains, / Crest beyond crest?
Hope rather, God will give him / His spirit's need -- / Rapture of ceaseless motion / That is rest indeed, / As the cataract sleeps on the cliff-side / White with speed.
So shall his soul go ranging / Forever, swift and wide, / With a strong man's rejoicing, / As he loved to ride; / But all our days are poorer / For the part of him that died.