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Poem

The year had started bravely,
	With assurances anew
	With life and hope anew
O, but the knave – he played me,
	With assurances untrue!
To contemplate it slays me -
	His promises untrue!

Yet years drone on like drumbeats,
	The monotony of years
	The bleak and sullen years
And a scarcity most bittersweet,
	Most certainly appears
A paucity I loathe to meet -
	The scarcity of years

And tho' the years betray me,
	The thought of being dead
	Fills my soul with dread
Solemn Death that frightens me,
	That universal dread!
The thirst for immortality,
	Is unquenchable – unfed!

And a methylated river flows,
	How slavishly it creeps
	From fountains of the deep
A river that the entombed know,
	Those in dreamless sleep
A river that the martyrs know,
	Those in trance-like sleep

Lo! The ghastly river, Death -
	From Tartarus below
	The ghastly torrent flows
That methylated river, Death -
	Doth tortuously flow
It suffocates and stifles breath,
	As martyrs surely know

I've no want to join them,
	Those in trance-like sleep
	Those in dreamless sleep
For living shines as diadems,
	Compar'd to martyr's sleep
Yes! Living shines as diadems,
	Compar'd to martyr's sleep

And tho' the years dismay me,
	And the journey seems too far
	The voyage seems too far
The thirst for immortality,
	Outlives the garnet star
Yea, the want of immortality,
	Outlasts the garnet star

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