Death, men say, is like a sea

    DEATH, men say, is like a sea 
    That engulfs mortality, 
    Treacherous, dreadful, blindingly 
    Full of storm and terror. 

    Death is like the deep, warm sand 
    Pleasant when we come to land, 
    Covering up with tender hand 
    The wave's drifted error. 

    Life's a tortured, booming gurge 
    Winds of passion strike and urge. 
    And transmute to broken surge 
    Foam-crests of ambition. 

    Death's a couch of golden ground. 
    Warm, soft, permeable mound, 
    Where from even memory's sound 
    We shall have remission.