FANTASIA

The happy men that lose their heads

They find their heads in heaven,

As cherub heads with cherub wings,

And cherub haloes even:

Out of the infinite evening lands

Along the sunset sea,

Leaving the purple fields behind,

The cherub wings beat down the wind

Back to the groping body and blind

As the bird back to the tree.

Whether the plumes be passion-red

For him that truly dies

By headsmen's blade or battle-axe,

Or blue like butterflies,

For him that lost it in a lane

In 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 brave

And broad release above,

Who lost their heads for liberty

Or lost their hearts for love?

Or is the wise man wise indeed

Whom 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.