What will become of you, flesh and bone,
When I at last must leave you alone?

When you have left us, bird of the breast,
Thankfully, endlessly we shall rest.
Long have you fluttered us, urging us ever
To ventures beyond our utmost endeavour,
Fretting us, driving us on and on
Until, breath failing and strength nigh gone,
We have longed for the day when, buried deep
In the passionless earth, we shall sink to sleep,
When you shall be free to wander the air
And we shall neither know nor care.

Think you, poor dreamers, you shall find rest
Even in earth's most secret breast?
Know you not then that life's desire
Has burned in the earth with a heart of fire
Ever since out of chaos she came
Borne on pinions of singing flame,
And not an atom, but in hot strife
Perishing, flares to a fuller life,
And death that seems a dreamless sleep
Is but life burning more fierce and deep?