. Fire and air . t repose, Slumberland, sweet slumberland. Quick as thought our life is whirled Far, far from the living world,To a world of rest and peace Where all thought and being cease,To a world where sense is dumb, To Nirvanas senseless from care, from labor free, Resting all unknowingly; For a time we cease to be, —Wonderful the mystery! How akin to death is sleep! Dreamless sleep so calm and our journey we are taking In that land unknown to we dead or do we take Long draught of Lethe, ere we wake? I do doubt my soul is free, Or that it may part from
. Fire and air . t repose, Slumberland, sweet slumberland. Quick as thought our life is whirled Far, far from the living world,To a world of rest and peace Where all thought and being cease,To a world where sense is dumb, To Nirvanas senseless from care, from labor free, Resting all unknowingly; For a time we cease to be, —Wonderful the mystery! How akin to death is sleep! Dreamless sleep so calm and our journey we are taking In that land unknown to we dead or do we take Long draught of Lethe, ere we wake? I do doubt my soul is free, Or that it may part from soul and self are one; With the frame was soul begun,And together both have grown: Both will cease when life is done!Life is but a candle flame, And must perish with the frame. Every morn I wake to find In its wonted frame the the spirit wandered free, Would it thus return to me?But how I may cease to be, And again awake, and see, —Still tis wonderful to me, And foretells futurity. (Jljr dlflrg of. mortality
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