The dew-mists of my sunless sleep shall float
  Under the stars like balm; night-folded flowers
  Shall suck unwithering hues in their repose;
  And men and beasts in happy dreams shall gather
  Strength for the coming day, and all its joy;
  And death shall be the last embrace of her
  Who takes the life she gave, even as a mother,
  Folding her child, says, 'Leave me not again.'

ASIA
  Oh, mother! wherefore speak the name of death?
  Cease they to love, and move, and breathe, and speak,
  Who die?

THE EARTH
  It would avail not to reply;
  Thou art immortal and this tongue is known
  But to the uncommunicating dead.
  Death is the veil which those who live call life;
  They sleep, and it is lifted; and meanwhile
  In mild variety the seasons mild
  With rainbow-skirted showers, and odorous winds,
  And long blue meteors cleansing the dull night,
  And the life-kindling shafts of the keen sun's
  All-piercing bow, and the dew-mingled rain
  Of the calm moonbeams, a soft influence mild,
  Shall clothe the forests and the fields, ay, even