Brief is the plea, inflexible the fate!
Silence has the last word; and then—the great
Silence, forevermore.
Pondering these,
The fretful spirit in bewilderment
Quickens with a vague doubt, and, not content,
Broods—and is ill at ease.
Her being is
Throned on so frail a pulse; such fleeting breath
Bears up her dream across the gulf of death