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OVER the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities, | |
| Amid lanes, and through old woods (where lately the violets peep’d from the ground, spotting the grey débris), | |
| Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes—passing the endless grass; | |
| Passing the yellow-spear’d wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprising; | |
| Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards; | 5 |
| Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave, | |
| Night and day journeys a coffin…. | |
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| Nor for you, for one, alone; | |
| Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring: | |
| For fresh as the morning—thus would I carol a song for you, O sane and sacred Death. | 10 |
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| All over bouquets of roses, | |
| O Death! I cover you over with roses and early lilies; | |
| But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first, | |
| Copious, I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes; | |
| With loaded arms I come, pouring for you, | 15 |
| For you, and the coffins all of you, O Death…. | |
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| Come, lovely and soothing Death, | |
| Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, | |
| In the day, in the night, to all, to each, | |
| Sooner or later, delicate Death. | 20 |
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| Prais’d be the fathomless universe, | |
| For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious; | |
| And for love, sweet love—But praise! praise! praise! | |
| For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death. | |
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| Dark Mother, always gliding near, with soft feet, | 25 |
| Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? | |
| Then I chant it for thee—I glorify thee above all; | |
| I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly. | |
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| Approach, strong Deliveress! | |
| When it is so—when thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead, | 30 |
| Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee, | |
| Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death. | |
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| From me to thee glad serenades, | |
| Dances for thee I propose, saluting thee—adornments and feastings for thee; | |
| And the sights of the open landscape, and the high-spread sky, are fitting, | 35 |
| And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night. | |
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| The night, in silence, under many a star; | |
| The ocean shore, and the husky whispering wave, whose voice I know; | |
| And the soul turning to thee, O vast and well-veil’d Death, | |
| And the body gratefully nestling close to thee. | 40 |
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| Over the tree-tops I float thee a song! | |
| Over the rising and sinking waves—over the myriad fields, and the prairies wide; | |
| Over the dense-pack’d cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways, | |
| I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O Death! | |
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