This Canada of ours and other poems/Euthanasy

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The weary brain cries out for rest—
    An end to hopes, an end to fears,
    An end to hours and days and years,
An end to time itself were best.
    The soul breathes out her litany—
To sleep in peace, to leave the light,
    To sink in silent lethargy,
And glide beyond the gates of night
    On wings of soft Euthanasy.

What voices pierce the ether clear?
    From distant stars they seem to roll,
    The answer of the Over-Soul;
Their music murmurs in the ear
    Like whisperings of eternity.
They call us back to Nature's breast,
    To end life's awful mystery,
And dream in the eternal rest
    That comes beyond Euthanasy.