'Change alone stands fast, thou sayest, O death: I know not:
⁠What art thou, my brother death, that thou shouldst know?
Men may reap no fruits of fields wherein they sow not;
⁠Hope or fear is all the seed we have to sow.
Winter seals the sacred springs up that they flow not:
⁠Wind and sun and change unbind them, and they flow.
Am I thou or art thou I? The years that show not
⁠Pass, and leave no sign when time shall be to show.'

Hope makes suit to faith lest fear give ear to sorrow:
⁠Doubt strews dust upon his head, and goes his way.
All the golden hope that life of death would borrow,
⁠How, if death require again, may life repay?
Earth endures no darkness whence no light yearns thorough;
⁠God in man as light in darkness lives, they say:
Yet, would midnight take assurance of the morrow,
⁠Who shall pledge the faith or seal the bond of day?