Shall
he for whose applause I strove,
I had such reverence for his blame,
See with clear eye some hidden shame
And
I be lessen’d in his love?
I
wrong the grave with fears untrue:
Shall love be blamed for want of faith?
There must be wisdom with great Death:
The
dead shall look me thro’ and thro’.
Be
near us when we climb or fall:
Ye watch, like God, the rolling hours
With larger other eyes than ours,
To
make allowance for us all.