Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light. Fame is not much, love is not much, Yet what else is there worth the touch Of lifted hands with dagger drawn? So surely life is little worth: Therefore I say, look up; therefore I say, one little star has more Bright gold than all the earth of earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A VOLUME OF SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY by GEORGE SANTAYANA NIGHTINGALE AND CUCKOO by ALFRED AUSTIN THIRTEEN AT TABLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER A ROSE by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN THE DEBT UNPAYABLE by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON ON THE DEATH OF MR. WOODWARD, AT EDINBURGH by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |