In vain to fear the poison-laden breath
Of Autumn's sultry south-wind, fraught with death;
Adown the wandering stream we all must go,
Adown Cocytus' waters, black and slow;
The ill-famed race of Danaus all must see,
And Sisyphus, from labors never free.
All must be left,—lands, home, beloved wife,—
All left behind when we have done with life;
One tree alone, of all thou holdest dear,