The Worst Of Slaves Is He Whom

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!

Ponder Deep Wisdom, Dark Or Clear, Each Secret Fishy Hope Or Fear. Fish Say, They Have Their Stream And Pond; But Is There Anything Beyond? This Life Cannot Be All, They Swear, For How Unpleasant, If It Were! One May Not Doubt That, Somehow, Good Shall Come Of Water And Of Mud; And, Sure, The Reverent Eye Must See A Purpose In Liquidity.

But Only Agony, And That Has Ending; And The Worst Friend And Enemy Is But Death.

I Shall Desire And I Shall Find The Best Of My Desires; The Autumn Road, The Mellow Wind That Soothes The Darkening Shires. And Laughter, And Inn-fires.

All The Little Emptiness Of Love!