Peace is the heir of dead desire, <br />Whether abundance killed the cormorant <br />In a happy hour, or sleep or death <br />Drowned him deep in dreamy waters, <br />Peace is the ashes of that fire, <br />The heir of that king, the inn of that journey. <br /> <br />This last and best and goal: we dead <br />Hold it so tight you are envious of us <br />And fear under sunk lids contempt. <br />Death-day greetings are the sweetest. <br />Let trumpets roar when a man dies <br />And rockets fly up, he has found his fortune. <br /> <br />Yet hungering long and pitiably <br />That way, you shall not reach a finger <br />To pluck it unripe and before dark <br />Creep to cover: life broke ten whipstocks <br />Over my back, broke faith, stole hope, <br />Before I denounced the covenant of courage.<br /><br />Robinson Jeffers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/suicide-s-stone/
