- EUTHANASIA
OUT of a world of pain,
In a trance that may well be death,
I drift on a barge thro' the fields again
Wherein I first drew breath.
And the river cools my face
And the river-scented flowers,
Water-mint and tall loose-strife
Bring me memories deep as life
From all my vanished hours,
And a white wraith-figure of you —
White arms, white hands, white breast —
Drifts by my side, and alone we two
Drink of the river of rest.
And the wind sighs in the reeds —
Gently — a little wind —
And lightly and sadly the gossamer-seeds
Float away o'er the river-meads,
Blown by that little wind,
And cool airs touch our faces
And your wraith-like hollow eyes
Grow soft with the leafy places,
And the low-breathed reedy sighs;
And on and on we drift,
Where the cattle stand in ranks,
And the swallows flit and skim
Over green and mossy banks;
Till the willows droop like ghosts
And the twilight fills the plain
And the rooks in solemn hosts
Gather and drift like rain.
Then at last I feel and know
That all my memories
As they wavered and flickered in endless flow
Were premonitions sent long ago
Of nothing else than this!
Than that I with you by my side,
Wraith-like but lovely still,
Should follow the river and drift and glide,
Past forest and forest — past hill and hill;
Till the river we follow grows one with the sea.
Ah, the pain again — it will never be!