Voyage to Asphodel

Listen to this grief I tell, How love away from me didst wind. And though in time, I think she’ll find I loved her better – never mind – The whole of life, its parts combined, Are only sorrows intertwined. But on the Plains, the Plains of Asphodel, Shall it all at last be well! The whole of life, ‘tis nothing deep, ‘Tis fodder for the compost heap. Life laughs at us, I laugh at it, We last through lethargy and wit. Yet this my rule, ignore the rest: ‘Tis he who dies the first, dies best. Untended lie the acres of my heart, Where once a field of roses bowed and swayed. And gladly from all sorrows shall I part! Nor by a dismal voyage, be dismayed.