When over us the cross its shadow throws, <br />Our frames enshrouded in the mould of night, <br />Thy body shall reflower in lily white, <br />And from my flesh be born the ensanguined rose. <br /> <br />And Death divine, thy verse in music knows, <br />With silence and oblivion to his flight, <br />In heavens shall show us, lulled with gentle might, <br />Echanted route where strange, new stars repose. <br /> <br />And mounting to the sun, within his breast <br />Our spirits twain shall melt and be possessed <br />Of blessedness of everlasting fire; <br /> <br />But Fame, anointing friend and child of song, <br />Shall give us an eternal life among <br />The immortal Shades made kin by glorious Lyre.<br /><br />Jose Maria de Heredia<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-of-the-dead/
