Explore "Death, to the Dead for Evermore" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
DEATH, to the dead for evermore / A King, a God, the last, the best of friends- / Whene'er this mortal journey ends / Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door; / Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore / Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn / Disturbs the eternal sleep, / But in the stillness far withdrawn / Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
For as from open windows forth we peep / Upon the night-time star beset / And with dews for ever wet; / So from this garish life the spirit peers; / And lo! as a sleeping city death outspread, / Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo! / After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears / And clamour of man's passion, Death appears, / And we must rise and go.
Soon are eyes tired with sunshine; soon the ears / Weary of utterance, seeing all is said; / Soon, racked by hopes and fears, / The all-pondering, all-contriving head, / Weary with all things, wearies of the years; / And our sad spirits turn toward the dead; / And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.