Fantasia

FANTASIA

The happy men that lose their headsThey find their heads in heaven,As cherub heads with cherub wings,And cherub haloes even:Out of the infinite evening landsAlong the sunset sea,Leaving the purple fields behind,The cherub wings beat down the windBack to the groping body and blindAs the bird back to the tree.

Whether the plumes be passion-redFor him that truly diesBy headsmen's blade or battle-axe,Or blue like butterflies,For him that lost it in a laneIn April's fits and starts,His folly is forgiven then:But higher, and far beyond our ken,Is the healing of the unhappy men,The men that lost their hearts.

Is there not pardon for the braveAnd broad release above,Who lost their heads for libertyOr lost their hearts for love?Or is the wise man wise indeedWhom larger thoughts keep whole?Who sees life equal like a chart,Made strong to play the saner part,And keep his head and keep his heart,And only lose his soul.