The Grateful Dead
THE grateful dead, they say, lie snug and close
Under the smooth, soft sloping of the grass,
Grateful indeed because above them pass
No other steps than those of wind or bird;
No other sound is heard.
Under the smooth, soft sloping of the grass,
Grateful indeed because above them pass
No other steps than those of wind or bird;
No other sound is heard.
For without eyes we see and, earless, hear;
Sweeter is this than nights of restless mood,
Sweeter than nights of blank infinitude,
Sweeter than ghostly pageants of a dream,
Half-caught of things that seem.
Sweeter is this than nights of restless mood,
Sweeter than nights of blank infinitude,
Sweeter than ghostly pageants of a dream,
Half-caught of things that seem.
Another life have we than those who live,
Another death have we than those who die;
Mortal and ghost and angel pass us by,
Mortal and ghost and angel have one breath;
Die, would ye learn of death !
Another death have we than those who die;
Mortal and ghost and angel pass us by,
Mortal and ghost and angel have one breath;
Die, would ye learn of death !