That is but part of transitory realms.
And yet the sacrifices of such deaths
Are but the seeds of immortality,
All that which blossoms forth from death below
Must grow unto the higher life above.
Maria:
E’en so it is with me. Thou giv’st me light:
But light that doth deprive me of my sight,
And sunder me from mine own self in twain.
Then do I seem some spirit’s instrument