Nearer and ever nearer...
My body, tired but tense,
Hovers 'twixt vague pleasure And tremulous confidence. Arms to have and to use them And a soul to be made Worthy, if not worthy;
If afraid, unafraid. To endure for a little,
To endure and have done: Men I love about me,
Over me the sun! And should at last suddenly Fly the speeding death,
The four great quarters of heaven Receive this littlle breath.
