I know that the day will come when 
my sight of this earth shall be lost, and 
life will take its leave in silence, drawing 
the last curtain over my eyes.
   Yet stars will watch at night, and 
morning rise as before, and hours heave
like sea waves casting up pleasures 
and pains.
   When I think of this end of my 
moments, the barrier of the moments 
breaks and I see by the light of death 
thy world with its careless treasures. 
Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its 
meanest of lives.
   Things that I longed for in vain and
things that I got-let them pass. Let
me but truly possess the things that I 
ever spurned and overlooked.