Sweet death! That blessed sleep in endless night
That frees us from the burdens of life’s dray;
Though colors ever bring the mind delight,
Who would eschew soft dusk at end of day?
Of peace and solitude that knows no end
Who dares complain of such a tranquil fate?
Who wakes from restful slumber to lament,
That quietude did not but aggravate?
As surely as soft moon succeeds harsh sun,
As surely as bright sky shall fade to black,
Why dread that time when worldly work is done
And we embrace a sleep that ever lasts?
Men fear not death, but dreams that there arise—
Of dreadful hell, or banal paradise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.