 | Songs in the twilight |  |
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DEATH.
O Death, Death, Death! unlovely, cruel Death!Grim King of Terrors, with thy barbèd dart!
Why should I fear thee, dreadful though thou art,
Or speak thy name with low and bated breath,
And eyes that fill with swelling tears beneath
Their quivering lids, as throbs my timid heart?
Why should I shrink at thought of thee, or start?
What though thy curse still sadly lingereth?
Nought art thou but the travail pangs before
The birth which ushers in a higher life;
The surge which bears the vessel to that shore
Where storms shall rage no more, and joys are rife;
A Port of quiet rest for evermore,
Beyond the reach of sorrow, sin, and strife.
| Songs in the twilight | |