Four Voices
From the deep secluded recesses,
From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still,
Came the carol of a bird.
Freedom
Come lovely and soothing death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later, delicate death.
Prais’d be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,
And for love, sweet love—but praise! praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.
The First Spokesman
The night in silence under many a star,
The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,
And the soul turning to thee, O base and well-veil’d death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.
The Second Spokesman
Over the tree tops I float thee a song,
Over the rising and sinking waves and the myriad fields and the prairies wide,
Over the dense pack’d cities all and the teeming wharves and ways,
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O death.
Four Voices
Loud in the pines and cedars dim,
Clear in the freshness moist and the swamp-perfume,
And I with my comrades there in the night.