- is it God?--Once more the fear Of No God loads my breath:
Amid a sunless atmosphere
I fight again with death.
Such rest may be like that which lulls
The man who fainting lies:
- bloodless brain his spirit dulls, Draws darkness o'er his eyes.
- even such sleep, my heart responds, May be the ancient rest
Rising released from bodily bonds,
And flowing unreprest.
- o'ertasked will falls down aghast In individual death;
- puts aside the severed past, Breathes-in a primal breath.
- how should torture breed a calm? Can death to life give birth?
No labour can create the balm
That soothes the sleeping earth!
I yet will hope the very One
Whose love is life in me,
Did, when my strength was overdone,