Frederick Philip Grove
THOUGHTS
(IM 1-14)

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e-Edition by Gaby Divay
© August 2007

University of Manitoba Libraries	FPG & FrL Collections	University of Manitoba Archives

THE SACRED DEATH[80] by Frederick Philip Grove [1924. Death of P.McI.] Sacred makes death him who has done his task, Forgotten though he be down to his name And to the features of his stiffened mask: His life was seed from which new blossoms came.[81] They say the gods rule this revolving earth And send us peace and war, sunshine and rain, Welcome abundance or the parching dearth. Perhaps they do. I grudge them not the gain Of praise and high renown from human lips. They rule but matter, give the body bread; They feed our eyes and arms and finger-tips. But our deep souls are nourished by the dead: By those who lived and strove or sang or thought: Whose core lies in us as ore[82] in a mine That[83] needs but pick and hammer to be wrought Into pure gold and ornament divine. In Memoriam 14