Classic Poem

If Birth be bitterer than Death, we know
That Heaven is Life and Death New-birth.
Who's here that hath no secret woe?
Who's here that dreams not the New Earth?

Dear Friend, forgive a wild lament
Insanely following thy flight.
I would not cumber thine ascent
Nor drag thee back into the Night;

But the great sea-winds sigh with me,
The fair-faced stars seem wrinkle-old,
And I would that I might lie with thee
There in the grave so cold, so cold.

Grave-walls are thick, I cannot see thee,
And the round skies are far and steep.
A-wild to quaff some cup of Lethe
Pain is proud and scorns to sleep.

My heart breaks, if it cling about thee,
And still breaks, if far from thine.
O drear, drear death, — to live without thee;
O sad life, — to keep thee mine!

Do thou go borrow some flesh-eye
And read the words I write to thee.
Then wait at the Gate, till we, too, die,
O Friend, O Brother, O Mystery!