A Bliss Eternal An Ode To Tennyson

Dare I shed this skin, and heart and bone neath this hollow shell, where the ecstasy of life though death dwells, a season for all time; they pass as sand through the hourglass, dripping down to melted months, I feel as the slitted urn, eased to deathly mirth Be I that fain patron of death --- that austere table set for my invincible demise, I cry as a desert blaze; a lament disguised in the throes of eve, in the time of nightingales I do sing; and whipporwills rejoice (in lofty perches so devine) a final tear of my leaving Our graves have been well prepared, and we all know this well --- those old days shall not return, with it those pink morns of youth, and the bitter-sweet of graying midlife --- the eases of eve await ever still; we move towards night.... to the bitter pill of midnite --- 'O midnite! you chime in my soul with the rooster's call! Prepare the hearse of life, and roll it to the mountainside; in the foothills I do sleep..... and upon the mounts where the eagles scream, where the vales awake, and the Lillie's surmise a harvest of their age; arise with me 'O Peace, for it is to the heavens I do ride, should I have wings as eagles --- gliding swiftly do I fly; yet my feathers shall be plucked, and flight jostled --- til, leaving no regrets, no evil, fretting what I left behind, a bliss eternal