Resurgam
Dedicated to M.
Is Death a dreary, dark-cowled Majesty
Who summons us to Him and bids us stay
And sink into the depths of dark oblivion
From which we ne'er can rise? The light of day
To be fore'er shut from us? Or is He
A gentle, peaceful, calm Benignity
Who calls us to Him, comforts us and shows
Us to a Place of Rest, where Wayfarers
Traveling Life's Pathway may stop a pace,
Cast down their weary load of misery,
Sadness and pain—rest—and then return
Alive, refreshed, revivified, to joy
In this world's thrilling wonder once again?
Who summons us to Him and bids us stay
And sink into the depths of dark oblivion
From which we ne'er can rise? The light of day
To be fore'er shut from us? Or is He
A gentle, peaceful, calm Benignity
Who calls us to Him, comforts us and shows
Us to a Place of Rest, where Wayfarers
Traveling Life's Pathway may stop a pace,
Cast down their weary load of misery,
Sadness and pain—rest—and then return
Alive, refreshed, revivified, to joy
In this world's thrilling wonder once again?
