Is it living thus to live?
Has life nothing more to give?
Ah, no more of smile or sigh—
Life, the world, and love, good-bye.
Gray, and passionless, and dim,
Echoing of the solemn hymn,
Lies the walk, 'twixt fern and rose,
Here within the garden close.
LOVE-SONG
If Death should claim me for her own to-day,