How many a life must thou the journey keep, O soul, thro' sexual seasons of the years? O heart, how many a harvest of thy tears Shall life's sharp sword of unfulfillment reap? The breath of dawn shall blow -- haply with tears! -- How oft, O heart, O soul, before the deep Darkness and still eternity of sleep Bring natural justice for life's long arrears? Ah! when my rose of life is ripe to fall, Pray God I sink thro' gardens of the sun Till the dead fingers of oblivion Constrain my heart, and there lie over me The tideless waters and the eventual Darkness of death's unlit, unlifting sea! |