| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922. |
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| Afterwards |
| | | Mahlon Leonard Fisher |
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| THERE was a day when death to me meant tears, | |
| And tearful takings-leave that had to be, | |
| And awed embarkings on an unshored sea, | |
| And sudden disarrangement of the years. | |
| But now I know that nothing interferes | 5 |
| With the fixed forces when a tired man dies; | |
| That death is only answerings and replies, | |
| The chiming of a bell which no one hears, | |
| The casual slanting of a half-spent sun, | |
| The soft recessional of noise and coil, | 10 |
| The coveted something time nor age can spoil; | |
| I know it is a fabric finely spun | |
| Between the stars and dark; to seize and keep, | |
| Such glad romances as we read in sleep. | |
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