All The Little Emptiness Of Love!

Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire Of Watching For You; And Swing Me Suddenly Into The Shade And Loneliness And Mire Of The Last Land!

The Worst Of Slaves Is He Whom Passion Rules.

Proud, Then, Clear-eyed And Laughing, Go To Greet Death As A Friend!

The Cool Kindliness Of Sheets, That Soon Smooth Away Trouble; And The Rough Male Kiss Of Blankets.

Yet, Behind The Night, Waits For The Great Unborn, Somewhere Afar, Some White Tremendous Daybreak.