POET: She insists that Death is a shining part of her unbroken circle.
TRUTH: Death, warder to the cloudy gate of Time, The portal of Eternity. The Sun is its watchman. The Stars are its sentinels. Its hinges are the slow-turning ages.
POET: The perfect portal to the path endless, Through which comes the Future. She is shod with the golden sandals of Delight And robed in garments of the morning skies ; Bearing on her strong right arm a baby, laughing.
TRUTH: Death, master of the gateway, opening the portal. Benevolent Death ; chaste ; just ; not to be feared.
POET: He holds a crystal cup, dripping rainbows.
TRUTH: But with your own hand you have pushed back the
rainbow cup. You have given Death a withered bough. Blighted before fruit.
POET: Death is the keeper of the Halls of Immortality. Whomsoever he leads into the Gardens of Memory Wanders not abroad any more.
TRUTH: Death, whose daughter is Memory, Keeper of the sacred silences Where no air from the world stirs. Nor is any change.
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