This Canada of ours and other poems/Euthanasy
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.