Should I today from dust to dust be born
By some strange fate or flip of sacred coin
And find my life-string in silence shorn
In spite of power passed from the loin,
Please weep thou not, though harsh grief steal thy breath,
For all must pass through that dark valley's veil.
Stay thou strong, for my life ends not in death,
Though mortal world fade, and all visions pale.
If thou must cry, then catch in golden bowl
Thy tears, that they might not strike the dry earth,
For then in better state shall rest my soul
And know comfort in time for second birth.
Death takes us all, and tears must sometimes flow,
But Death harms not one found in Heaven's glow.
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