And after such assurance comes the cry of faith and content and peace:
Then do I cease to clutch the emptiness,
And sleep, and sleep me unafeared!
With this comforting assurance in mind one may cheerfully approach her solemn address to Death:
Who art thou,
Who tracketh ’pon the path o’ me—
O’ each turn, aye, and track?
Thou! And thou astand!
And o’er thy face a cloud,
Aye, a darked and somber cloud!