Dear, was it really you and I?

Quote byWilliam Ernest Henley · 1849–1903

Commonly attributed — not confirmed in an authoritative edition. Cited on Wikiquote to: Poems (1898), "Rhymes and Rhythms", XV.

English (original)

Dear, was it really you and I? In truth the riddle's ill to read, So many are the deaths we die Before we can be dead indeed.

— William Ernest Henley

From the winter's gray despair, From the summer’s golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever.

Hark how the Trumpet, The mistress of mistresses, Calls, silver-throated And stern, where the tables Are spread, and the work Of the Lord is in hand!

Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame.

Far in the stillness a cat Languishes loudly. A cinder Falls, and the shadows Lurch to the leap of the flame.

Ho! then, the splendour And sheen of my ministry, Clothing the earth With a livery of lightnings! Ho! then, the music Of battles in onset

Bland as a Jesuit, sober as a hymn.