IF I must die, The earth is inarticulate to sing The dirge I crave: The sorrow of the murmur-laden wave, The sea-born wind complaining 'neath the sky, And round my head the waters' silver ring. If I must live, And feel the ashes of oblivion About my soul, Let life be fearful, let me feel the whole, Despair, and face the sunrise -- if I grieve Let it but be the tarrying of the sun. |