Death Will Come When Thou Art Dead,

And Many An Ante-natal Tomb Where Butterflies Dream Of The Life To Come.

Love's Pestilence, And Her Slow Dogs Of War.

Worlds On Worlds Are Rolling Ever From Creation To Decay, Like The Bubbles On A River Sparkling, Bursting, Borne Away.

Spirit, Patience, Gentleness, All That Can Adorn And Bless Art Thou Let Deeds, Not Words, Express Thine Exceeding Loveliness.

He Hath Awakened From The Dream Of Life.