 | Sursum Corda |  |
105
DEATH.
Like the spirit-rending spasmWaking one who dreams of falling
Down the chaos of a chasm,
Just as the adamantine walling
Of the precipice abysmal,
Dark, indefinite, and dismal,
Gapes to gulf him:—Such is Death,
Waking man from dreams of error,
On the very edge of terror.
To the heavenly morning-breath.
| Sursum Corda | |