Then Death Replied

O throbbing Life! away beyond the strife,—
Beyond the toil, when all the dream is o'er,—
What shall betide?

Shall effort end in mystery and fear,
As foot-prints, leading to a river wide,
That show their impress on the nearer shore
But disappear
And are not found upon the farther side?
Then Death to me replied;
But of his utterance, veiled, I could not hear
Or understand a tithe,
Because of the insatiate roar
Made by his ruthless scythe.
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