In a chosen room in an hour that was known to all.
Next day he sat so listless, almost cold,
So strangely changed, wondering why I wept,
Till a kind of sick despair and voluptuous madness
Seized us to make the pact of death.
A stalk of the earth sphere,
Frail as star-light,
Waiting to be drawn once again
Into creation’s stream.
But next time to be given birth