In which in still dreams I yet hear
The happy cries of babes 'midst the heath
And eglantine of a summer dream
They know not sadness nor sorrow, the
Thousand demons which haunt in old age
Are banished from their hearts, free
To ramble and dance gaily, light-soled
It is the river of life and death
I ponder 'miudst nighttime shadows
In thick of cypress groves, in stealth
Of night with blinding sweet rage
I tread in haste, at each pace askance
Glancing dartedly at fleeting rays
Of moonlight in this, my final dance
With not rhyme nor reason of being.
It is the river of life and death
Which carries my screaming soul, a mask
Of contorted pain, a ghoulish quaff
The torrent of blood that is my tomb.
Along the shore arise yew sapshoots
The living are numbered with the dead
At once immortalized, bathed in Truths
Of cruel fate and tender, fleeting youth.
It is the river of life and death
From which all depart at infancy
Free of sin and pure, certain health;
Into the self-same waters to some
Jaded day return! with wearied long.
Some take the hemlock stream, other sweet
Vapors of deathly thrill, but one song
Of honeyed fear, viral joy on tongue.
It is the river of life and death.