Though your life be straight or turning,
Be it peaceful, be it stirred,
Little tears and much of yearning,
Always fulfillment deferred.
Though it drag or rush unchanneled,
Be a rose or a barren glade,
You will always be impaneled
’Twixt a double pointed blade.
When your blood stream stains the saber
And your weeping stirs the night
Man and even God will waver
To assist you in your plight.
You must suffer in lifers maelstrom,
Though you win, or yield to fear,
Til you’ve touched Life’s very bottom—
You know not .mw-parser-output .nowrap,.mw-parser-output .nowrap a:before,.mw-parser-output .nowrap .selflink:before{white-space:nowrap}. . . that Death is near.