Love and Death
Alas! that men must see
Love, before Death!
Else they content might be
With their short breath;
Aye, glad, when the pale sun
Showed restless Day was done,
And endless Rest begun.
Glad, when with strong, cool hand
Death clasped their own,
And with a strange command
Hushed every moan;
Glad to have finished pain,
And labor wrought in vain,
Blurred by Sin’s deepening stain.
But Love’s insistent voice
Bids Self to flee—
“Live that I may rejoice,
Live on, for me!”
So, for Love’s cruel mind,
Men fear this Rest to find,
Nor know great Death is kind!