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 ::::EUTHANASIA

UT of a world of pain, In a trance that may well be death, I drift on a barge thro' the fields again Wherein I first drew breath. And the river cools my face And the river-scented flowers, Water-mint and tall loose-strife Bring me memories deep as life From all my vanished hours, And a white wraith-figure of you — White arms, white hands, white breast — Drifts by my side, and alone we two Drink of the river of rest. And the wind sighs in the reeds — Gently — a little wind — And lightly and sadly the gossamer-seeds Float away o'er the river-meads, Blown by that little wind, And cool airs touch our faces And your wraith-like hollow eyes Grow soft with the leafy places, And the low-breathed reedy sighs; And on and on we drift, Where the cattle stand in ranks, And the swallows flit and skim Over green and mossy banks; Till the willows droop like ghosts And the twilight fills the plain