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Fixed Is The Doom

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Written by Robert Louis Stevenson

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 FIXED is the doom; and to the last of years
Teacher and taught, friend, lover, parent, child,
Each walks, though near, yet separate; each beholds
His dear ones shine beyond him like the stars.
We also, love, forever dwell apart; With cries approach, with cries behold the gulph, The Unvaulted; as two great eagles that do wheel in air Above a mountain, and with screams confer, Far heard athwart the cedars.
Yet the years Shall bring us ever nearer; day by day Endearing, week by week, till death at last Dissolve that long divorce.
By faith we love, Not knowledge; and by faith, though far removed, Dwell as in perfect nearness, heart to heart.
We but excuse Those things we merely are; and to our souls A brave deception cherish.
So from unhappy war a man returns Unfearing, or the seaman from the deep; So from cool night and woodlands to a feast May someone enter, and still breathe of dews, And in her eyes still wear the dusky night.


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