Some syllables are swords.
Dear beauteous death, the jewel of the just.
If thou canst but thither, There grows the flower of Peace, The Rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress and thy ease.
As men are killed by fighting, the truth is lost in disputing.
I saw Eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright.
Death, and darkness get you packing, Nothing now to man is lacking, All your triumphs now are ended, And what Adam marred, is mended.