Verse > Anthologies > Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. > The Second Book of Modern Verse
Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948).  The Second Book of Modern Verse.  1922.
Charles Wharton Stork
DEATH is like moonlight in a lofty wood,
  That pours pale magic through the shadowy leaves;
  ’T is like the web that some old perfume weaves
In a dim, lonely room where memories brood;
Like snow-chilled wine it steals into the blood,        5
  Spurring the pulse its coolness half reprieves;
  Tenderly quickening impulses it gives,
As April winds unsheathe an opening bud.
Death is like all sweet, sense-enfolding things,
  That lift us in a dream-delicious trance        10
  Beyond the flickering good and ill of chance;
But most is Death like Music’s buoyant wings,
  That bear the soul, a willing Ganymede,
  Where joys on joys forevermore succeed.


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